


The Weight of Living

by percyplusoliver



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2018-11-29 09:42:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 67,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11438229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/percyplusoliver/pseuds/percyplusoliver
Summary: Percy had always found Oliver more than mildly attractive. They had been the only two Gryffindor boys of their year, and thus had shared a dormitory only between the two of them for their entire seven years of schooling. Percy had seen Oliver at every time of the day, in all states of undress. He had found that Oliver preferred to walk around naked, and, though he had hated to admit it to himself, he didn't mind. Percy had always had to try not to stare slack-jawed at Oliver when he was nude in their dormitory. He never wanted Oliver to know that he found him attractive.Oliver, after finishing a rather animated conversation with the bartender about rugby, which he was being taught by one of the Muggleborns on the team, looked down the bar and saw a familiar head of bright red hair.What is a Weasley doing here?he wondered. For a moment, he couldn't figure out which Weasley it was, until he realised that only Percy would be by himself.Furthermore, what isPercyWeasley doing here?He decided to saunter over to the other man and find out.





	1. Relaxation techniques

It was Friday night. Percy had had a horrendous week at work; he was beginning to hate his job, which was saying something, for him. He was beginning to feel like he was the peon, the one on whom all of the undesirable jobs were dumped upon, simply because he was one of the youngest employees. Usually he didn't let it get to him. This week, something had changed, and he didn't know what it was, but he was in a terrible mood.

He left the Ministry seething with rage at the rest of the workers in his department for treating him like an inferior and like a complete imbecile. Percy needed something to take his mind off work. He saw a Muggle pub down the road, and he decided to go in and get something to drink. He never drank, but he had decided that tonight merited something to cheer him up. Percy walked through the door and sat down on one of the cracked leather seats of an old wooden bar stool.

"A beer, please," Percy said to the bartender, who handed him one almost immediately.

He felt out of place. Everyone else at the bar was with someone, or several someones, and they all seemed to be having a good time. Even the man down the bar, who wasn't really with anyone but looked incredibly familiar, was smiling and chatting up the bartender. _Who could that be?_ Percy wondered as he drank the rest of his beer. _I don't know anyone who would be in a Muggle pub._ He ignored the somewhat familiar face for several minutes, trying to signal the bartender for another drink, but the bartender was too involved in conversation with the familiar man.

Finally, the bartender looked away and saw Percy looking at him with a raised eyebrow. His beer was refilled, and Percy got a good look at the man down the bar. _Oliver Wood,_ he thought immediately. _Why would Oliver Wood be in a Muggle pub? Why would Oliver Wood be in a Muggle pub dressed like that?_ Now that Oliver had turned fully, Percy could see that the other man was wearing jeans so tight that they looked as though they were painted on, with carefully placed holes on the thighs and several on his knees. His shirt was one of his old shirts from school, but it looked like it had shrunk a fair amount since they'd been students. He couldn't tear his eyes away from Oliver. _At least he's not looking at me,_ Percy thought, somewhat relieved.

Percy had always found Oliver more than mildly attractive. They had been the only two Gryffindor boys of their year, and thus had shared a dormitory only between the two of them for their entire seven years of schooling. Percy had seen Oliver at every time of the day, in all states of undress. He had found that Oliver preferred to walk around naked, and, though he had hated to admit it to himself, he didn't mind. Percy had always had to try not to stare slack-jawed at Oliver when he was nude in their dormitory. He never wanted Oliver to know that he found him attractive.

Oliver, after finishing a rather animated conversation with the bartender about rugby, which he was being taught by one of the Muggleborns on the team, looked down the bar and saw a familiar head of bright red hair. _What is a Weasley doing here?_ he wondered. For a moment, he couldn't figure out which Weasley it was, until he realised that only Percy would be by himself. _Furthermore, what is **Percy** Weasley doing here?_ He decided to saunter over to the other man and find out.

"Percy!" Oliver said, clapping the other man on the shoulder, causing him to cough and choke a bit on the beer he had been swallowing at the moment. "What are you doing in this dive?"

After he'd caught his breath once more, Percy turned and looked at Oliver, his breath hitching in his throat when he saw Oliver's ensemble up close. "I suppose I could ask the same of you," he said, trying desperately to keep his voice even. This was not how he had wanted things to go at all. He was not supposed to be nervous. He was supposed to be the cool, detached Percy Weasley that he had been for so many years.

"Gotta stay out of the wizard pubs," Oliver said in a quieter tone. "United beat the Pride of Portree last week, and we may have injured a player prior to the game. All over the sports pages of the Prophet, so we have to lie low for awhile. Now you answer my question. What are you doing in this dive?"

"Bad week," Percy said, suddenly finding his mug of beer very interesting.

"That's too bad," Oliver said. "Thought you loved your job; you were so excited about it when we graduated."

"I did," Percy said, "and most of the time, I do. However, this week hasn't been the best; I've been treated like an inferior and an imbecile by many of the people in my department, though I've been with the Ministry longer than some of them have been." He made a face. "My desk has become the dumping ground for all of the undesirable paperwork, which has been frustrating." He frowned. "Just bad in general, really."

Oliver cocked his head and looked at Percy. There was something undeniably magnetic about his personality, though everyone had thought it rather stodgy and off-putting when they'd been in school. Oliver, however, had seen it as dedication, something he himself had, but for Quidditch instead of rules and schoolwork. He decided to pursue the conversation.

"You need to de-stress sometimes, Percy," Oliver said knowledgeably. "Do you even know how to?" He expected a negative answer to that question. Percy had come across as perpetually stressed and busy in school, and he didn't seem to know how to fix that problem. Oliver, however, had no problem dealing with his stress. He had found that a nice, hot bath worked quite well, but on the occasion that it didn't, he wanked off and immediately felt better. Perhaps Percy needed to learn how to do that. _Maybe I'll have to teach him,_ Oliver thought, a wicked grin coming over his face.

"No," Percy said in a rare moment of complete honesty. "I've never even tried to de-stress, really. I've always thought that stress motivated me more, which, I suppose, it did." He shrugged. "Why do you ask?"

"You're tense," Oliver replied. "I can see it in the way you sit, all rigid and uncomfortable."

Percy shifted uncomfortably.

"See?" Oliver said. "Just like that." He paused, thinking. "Listen," he continued, "being that Quidditch players are excellent at getting rid of stress, how about I help you learn how to relax?" He wondered what had caused him to say something like that. He had found Percy attractive in school, perhaps just because they were cut from the same fabric, the fabric of almost fanatical devotion to their passions. He had found Percy attractive because of the freckles. He wondered if Percy had freckles all over his body, and he had always wanted to find out. _Maybe tonight I will,_ he thought mischievously.

Percy blinked. Oliver Wood wanted to help him learn how to de-stress? He certainly had no problem with that. A deep flush began creeping up his cheeks, matching his hair. "That...that would be nice," he muttered. "I wouldn't want to bother you, though. I don't want you going out of your way for this." He _did_ want Oliver going out of his way, and he _did_ want to bother Oliver. He wanted to spend time with the man he had found attractive since puberty.

"No bother at all," Oliver said cheerily. "You busy tonight?" Oliver hated to admit that he had no plans for a Friday night; usually, on a Friday night, he had several encounters with various people, birds or blokes. He really didn't mind with whom he slept; as long as they were good, that was all that mattered. Lately, he'd been leaning more toward blokes, but he didn't mind. They were better; they knew what was good and what wasn't, and that just because they'd spent one night together didn't mean they were in love or even going to see each other again. Oliver didn't do seconds. It just wasn't his style.

"No," Percy admitted. He was never busy on Friday nights. It was the night when he actually cooked for himself; usually pasta or some kind of fowl, something easy. He spent his nights off reading. He had no friends. "No," he repeated, "I'm not busy."

"Excellent," Oliver said, pulling out some of the fascinating Muggle paper money. Percy followed suit and counted out the money, giving the bartender exact change for his two drinks.

"So..." Percy began nervously, "what does this... de-stressing... entail?"

"Can't really tell you," Oliver said, a mischievous look in his eyes. "Let's go to mine; we can get you de-stressed there." He didn't think that Percy would want anyone over if he hadn't had a chance to perfectly order all of his things and make his flat spotless, so Oliver had offered his. Didn't matter to him, really, what state his flat was in when people came over. He wouldn't be seeing them again, so he didn't care.

Percy nodded. He was nervous, and perhaps rightly so. He was going home with someone whom he had found attractive since school. He hadn't ever been picked up at a bar; he had never been to a bar, for that matter. He'd only dated Penelope in school, but after graduation, they went their separate ways. Percy had thought it was all for the best; he had never really had much interest in the girl. However, he had dated her because he thought it was the right thing to do; boys dated girls. That was just the way it was.

Now he was questioning that. Did boys really just date girls, or could boys date boys as well?

Oliver began walking out of the pub, checking behind him to see if Percy was following. "Oi, Percy, coming?" he called back. Oliver, too, was slightly nervous about this. He didn't know why; he was always confident whenever he brought someone to his flat. He was always self-assured; this never happened to him. _Don't worry about it,_ he told himself. _It'll be fine._ As he walked, he began thinking of ways to help his former roommate de-stress. Almost immediately, he had a plan.

***

They reached Oliver's flat in record time. Idle chatter had been the only thing they could come up with, not having seen each other for so long, and not having spent much time with each other, oddly enough, when they had been in school.

"C'mon in," Oliver said, unlocking the door and pushing it open. "It's not much, but it's home." He toed off his shoes and walked barefoot into the kitchen, where he pulled out two glasses from the cupboard. "Anything to drink?" he called.

"Just water, please," Percy said, even more nervous than before. He followed Oliver into the kitchen, looking around. It was nice; much more homey than his own flat. His flat was sterile and uninviting. _Never had to invite anyone, though,_ he thought as he took the glass of water from Oliver. "Thanks," he said before taking a sip. He had a foul aftertaste of beer in his mouth and he wanted to get rid of it. "You have a nice flat," he said honestly, giving Oliver a rare sincere smile.

Oliver smiled. "Thanks," he said. "I like it." He paused. "Go on and take a seat in the living room; make yourself at home," he said. "I'll be in in just a second; I want to get myself a glass of water."

Percy obeyed, leaving the kitchen and sitting on the soft couch in the middle of Oliver's living room. He kept his shoes on, and continued to sit rigidly.

Oliver did pour himself a glass of water, but he only took a few sips, and then removed his shirt. He usually walked around his flat naked, but he thought that he would start slowly, seeing as Percy hadn't seen him naked in years, and it could frighten him off. _Don't want to do that,_ he thought, grinning.

Oliver walked into the living room and stood behind Percy, putting his Quidditch-roughened hands on the other man's shoulders. "You're tense," Oliver said matter-of-factly. "Percy, have you ever had a back massage?" As he asked, his hands began to gently massage the other man's shoulders.

Percy could have sworn that he felt his heart stop for a just a second when Oliver touched him. "No," he said, his tone wavering a bit, "I haven't." _But now I want you to give me one,_ he thought urgently.

"Well, then," Oliver said, smirking, "we'll just have to fix that first." _Percy's a smart boy,_ he thought. _He should pick up on that._

Yes, Percy had picked up on it. _First?_ he wondered. _What could possibly come next?_

***

Oliver massaged Percy's shoulders in silence for a few moments, his hands getting caught up in Percy's shirt more than once. _It would be much easier if I just removed this,_ he thought, reaching around Percy's front and undoing his tie one-handed. It was obvious that he had done it before. The same hand began to unbutton Percy's shirt. _Slow down, Wood,_ he told himself. _Don't frighten the poor boy off._

Percy was far from frightened; his breath was becoming shallow and his heart rate was rapidly increasing. If this was de-stressing, he would have to do it more often. He felt Oliver unbuttoning the final few buttons on his shirt, and, without thinking, he shrugged his own shirt from his shoulders. He was immediately uncomfortable. He was not bare-chested in front of anyone. When he showered, he toweled off and dressed immediately. He didn't feel comfortable being undressed; he thought he was scrawny and awkward.

Oliver didn't think so. When Percy shrugged off his shirt, Oliver saw slightly defined muscles in the other man's stomach, and beginnings of biceps. "How does this feel, Perce?" Oliver asked, hoping for a positive response.

"Good," Percy replied, closing his eyes. This was better than good; it was amazing, and he never wanted it to stop.

"Good," Oliver said. "I only want to **please** you." His word choice was intentional. He was the king of double entendres, especially in situations such as these. He found a particularly nasty knot on Percy's left shoulder; it was about the size and shape of a large portobello mushroom. It was one of the worst Oliver had found when giving massages, which were less frequent than one might think. He wasn't one for foreplay; he preferred to satisfy his desires immediately.

Percy gasped when Oliver began putting pressure on the knot on his shoulder. That hurt quite a bit. He hadn't known a back massage could be so painful. However, moments later, his shoulder was beginning to feel much better, and, as Oliver put a bit more pressure on the knot, he let out an involuntary noise that sounded like a cross between a sigh and a moan. This was bloody amazing.

Oliver heard the sound, and it went straight to his nether regions. Somehow, he had never thought that he would hear uptight Percy Weasley make that sound from something he, Oliver Wood, was doing. He liked it, and he wanted to keep hearing those noises.

Percy didn't seem to be able to stop making those noises, now that the pain had passed and it simply felt amazing. The noises began to get a bit louder, and he felt himself becoming more relaxed, except for a certain part of his body that was becoming a bit more alert. He could certainly get used to this.

"Percy," Oliver said, "do you know how sexy you can be when you think no one's looking?"

Percy flushed. That certainly was not true. He, Percy I Weasley, was not sexy. He never had been, and he never would be. That just wasn't the way things were. "No," Percy said, shaking his head, "I'm not. You're..." He let out another low moan-sigh type sound as Oliver hit a spot that really needed work. "You're...much more attractive than I am."

"I'm not more attractive," Oliver said, grinning. "It's just that I _know_ I'm attractive. You, on the other hand, don't, which makes you even sexier." It was time for him to do something. This back massage was amazing, even just for Oliver, but it wasn't enough. There needed to be something else, and it needed to happen _now_.


	2. If You're Good...

"No," Percy insisted, "I'm..."--he let out another low moan--"not sexy. It's...it's you who's the sexy one. You're much more attractive than I am."

Oliver removed his hands from Percy's shoulders and came round to sit on the coffee table in front of Percy. "Oh, you know that's not true," he said, smiling and resting his hands above Percy's knees, nearing his thighs. A surge of electricity flowed through Oliver's body when he did so. He had never thought that touching Percy Weasley would cause him to feel like this. Then again, he'd never thought that he would be touching Percy Weasley like this. Oliver leaned in, placing his hands on Percy's cheeks and kissing him lightly, just to gauge the other man's reaction.

Percy knew that his statement was true, but that this was neither the time nor the place to argue it. He sighed when Oliver's hands were on his legs, and the flush in his face was returning rapidly. If Oliver's hands continued to move upwards, he would find out how hard Percy had gotten, simply from the back massage. _And that is unacceptable,_ he thought nervously. However, all of that was forgotten when he felt Oliver's lips against his. His heart started to beat a rapid tattoo in his chest, and he kissed Oliver back with a fervor he hadn't known he had in him. Percy didn't know that he had wanted it this much for a long time. He hadn't had fantasies about Oliver for at least a year, but now...now that he was in Oliver's flat, half-naked, being kissed by the other man, he didn't need fantasies. He had the real thing, right in front of him.

Without thinking, Percy wrapped his arms around Oliver's bare torso, pulling him closer for a deeper, more passionate kiss. This was amazing. Every second of the kiss was electric. It had never been like that with Penelope; he had only kissed her because she had wanted him to, and he thought that was the way things had to be. Now that he was kissing Oliver, however, he knew that his view had been wrong. _This,_ he thought, _is the way things have to be._

Oliver went willingly when Percy pulled him closer. He hadn't thought that Percy would have reacted this well to his advances, and he was quite pleased. Oliver broke off the kiss briefly to press a small kiss to Percy's neck, and then his lips found Percy's once more. Oliver, he had been told, was a very good kisser. He started things off slowly, and then built up anticipation with longer, deeper, more passionate kisses, usually ending in a tongue battle between him and the other person involved. He wanted this, whatever this was, with Percy to end up as much more than a simple tongue battle. He knew what he wanted, and he **always** got what he wanted.

Percy let out a louder moan when he felt Oliver's lips on his neck. That was amazing. He hadn't known that his neck was so sensitive until just then, but now he wanted Oliver to do that a lot more.

The moans that were coming from Percy were egging Oliver on. He now knew that Percy's neck was sensitive, and he planned to exploit that to the fullest. Though he was no longer standing behind Percy, his hands continued to lightly massage the other man's shoulders while he attached his lips to Percy's neck, intent on leaving his mark. _Don't think Percy has ever had a hickey before,_ Oliver thought devilishly. _Tonight is a good night for him._

"Mmm, Oliver," Percy moaned when Oliver attached his lips to his neck. "That's bloody...amazing..." He ran his fingers up and down Oliver's back, barely touching his warm skin in an attempt to make Oliver want more. Percy didn't know what he was doing. He didn't know what to do in most situations, and this one was even more dire. He needed to know what to do. He wanted so badly to be able to please Oliver, to make Oliver feel the way he was making him feel, that he was getting anxious because he didn't know what to do. Relax, Percy, he told himself. Live in the moment. That would be difficult, but he would try. "You know," Percy said, a breathy tone coming to his voice, "...I...I thought about this, sometimes...in school..." His face flushed a deep crimson as he said that; he didn't think he would ever tell anyone about that, but it seemed that his voice had betrayed him.

That moan of Percy's caused Oliver's cock to stand to full attention. He had never thought he would be the one to make Percy make these noises. He loved it. When he heard Percy make his admission, however, he stopped, but only for a split second. Percy had? Oliver never would have thought that Percy had had it in him. "So," Oliver said, pressing a light kiss to Percy's lips, "you've dreamed about this since school?"

Percy nodded.

"Well then," Oliver said, a mischievous grin coming across his face, "we'll just have to see if I live up to those dreams, won't we?" He lightly pushed Percy back so he was lying on his back on the couch, and he was kneeling above him. Looking down at Percy, Oliver found him quite attractive, with his face flushed and his mouth slightly open. Oliver couldn't wait to do what he wanted to do, but he would have to lead up to it. _Slow down, Wood,_ he told himself once more. _It's his first time; let him savour everything._

Looking up at Oliver, Percy felt incredibly vulnerable. He had never been in this position before, about to be...well, he didn't quite know what...but he felt like he was very open right now, and he wasn't used to that. _Relax,_ he told himself. _Oliver won't hurt you._

No, Oliver wouldn't hurt him in a violent way; maybe something he did would hurt for a very short time, but it would be worth it for the rest of the time. He rested his elbows on the couch, lying down so he was nearly on top of Percy. Oliver didn't want to crush the skinnier man; Oliver was quite a bit more muscular, and he didn't want to hurt Percy unnecessarily. Instead, he leaned down so Percy could feel his breath on his chest, and his tongue darted out to lick one of Percy's nipples. He swirled his tongue around the bit of pebbled flesh, feeling the nipple get harder as he paid more attention to it.

Percy let out a loud groan when he felt Oliver's tongue on his nipple. That was bloody amazing, he thought, his breath coming in shallow gasps. "Ohhh..." Percy moaned. "S'bloody good.." His eyes slid shut, only wanting to experience, not see.

"What did I do?" Oliver asked devilishly. "What did I do that merited that?"

"You...when you..." Percy said, almost bashfully, "when you...licked and sucked my..my nipple like that... that was bloody amazing..."

Oliver grinned and quickly moved one hand to Percy's crotch, where he squeezed gently. Seeing how hard Percy was made Oliver even more anxious to get to what he wanted to do. Usually, he didn't like foreplay; he liked instant gratification, and foreplay just prolonged his torment.

Percy jumped when Oliver grabbed his crotch. "Oh, God, Oliver..." he groaned.

"What do you like?" Oliver asked, a twinkle coming to his eyes. "What do you want me to keep doing?"

"Anything," Percy moaned. "Anything you like...s'bloody amazing..."

Anything he liked, hmm? Oliver liked the sound of that. His hands wandered back down to Percy's hips, where he deftly unfastened the other man's trousers. Once he'd undone the button and the zip, he said, "Lift your hips." He knew what he wanted to do, and as soon as he'd started doing it, Percy wouldn't want him to stop.

Percy complied immediately. He thought he knew what Oliver was going to do, and it sounded like an excellent idea to him.

Oliver slid the other man's pants down his hips until he could toss them away to the floor. His hand roamed over Percy's crotch once more before removing his boxers as well, throwing them where he had thrown the pants. He was surprised when he saw Percy's cock; it was a lot bigger than he'd expected it to be. The head was an angry red, and it looked like it needed immediate attention, which Oliver was more than prepared to give. He began by kissing Percy's hips and thighs, moving slowly to Percy's cock, licking the shaft all the way to the head before engulfing it in his mouth.

Percy let out a loud groan as he felt Oliver taking his erection in his mouth. This was the most amazing thing he had ever felt, and he never wanted it to stop. "Fuck, Oliver," he moaned. "That's...that's...amazing.."

Oliver nearly choked when he heard Percy swear. He'd never thought that Percy would be the type to use crude language, having been so uptight and rule-abiding when they'd been in school, but that word, that one word, made his cock twitch in anticipation. He decided it would be a good idea to add some variation to what he was doing, so he changed the angle from which he was coming in while he sucked. One of his hands slid down by his mouth, and, taking hold of Percy's testicles, began to gently massage them.

Percy hadn't thought it could get better than it was, but suddenly, it was even more amazing. He felt Oliver's hand grip his testicles and massage them, and his hips started thrusting involuntarily into Oliver's mouth. He didn't know how much longer he was going to last, but it didn't matter. This was the best thing that had ever happened to him. "Not...gonna last...much longer," he panted.

That was what Oliver wanted to hear. He had wanted to hear that what he was doing was making Percy feel so amazing that he was going to come. Oliver let out a slight moan around Percy's erection, hoping that the vibrations would bring him even closer. He wanted Percy to come; he wanted to taste it and see if Percy tasted as good as he looked right now.

That was just what Percy needed. When Oliver moaned around his penis, he felt his balls drawing up and he let out a low, guttural moan. "Oh, fuck me, Oliver," he moaned loudly as he came. This was the best orgasm of his life; previously, it had just been him wanking himself off, which had been good at the time, but he didn't know if he could go back to simply wanking after having this. His only coherent thought as he came was _I hope I get to do this again..._

Oliver didn't stop when Percy started to come. He just slowed down a bit and began to swallow. He sucked Percy's penis until Percy had stopped coming and Oliver could feel his cock softening in his mouth. However, this wasn't what interested him. He was interested in Percy's comment.

Oliver gave the other man a devilish grin. "If you're good," he said, sticking his tongue slightly through his teeth.


	3. Are You Complaining?

_If I'm good?_ Percy thought, confused. _Good how?_ He couldn't remember saying anything, but he thought he had heard his own voice. _I suppose I'll find out,_ he thought, _assuming I'm good._ "You're good," Percy said huskily, pulling Oliver close to him and kissing him soundly. He could taste himself on Oliver, and, surprisingly, it didn't bother him. "That was bloody amazing." One hand slid down Oliver's chest and began to play with one of the other man's nipples, pinching and rolling it between his thumb and forefinger.

Oliver grinned. Percy needs these more often, he thought. Oliver was thinking about breaking his "no seconds" rule, just for Percy. It was odd, he thought, to be breaking his cardinal rule for someone with whom he had lived for seven years and not really gotten to know well, and for someone with whom he'd just become reacquainted, and, before him, probably hadn't gotten a blow job. _Maybe,_ he thought, _I'll keep him, just to teach him._ That sounded awfully good to Oliver, being the teacher and having his student practice on him.

Oliver let out a soft sigh as Percy's hand reached his nipple. He liked that. He liked it a lot, but there was something else that desperately needed attention. His erection was pressing uncomfortably against the zip of his extraordinarily tight jeans, and it needed to be taken care of. Oliver pressed his hips against Percy's, wondering if the other man would have the balls to do something about it. "See anything you like?" he asked devilishly. 

"Everything," Percy answered without hesitation, and it was true. Looking at Oliver, his face slightly flushed and his lips slightly kiss-swollen, and feeling the other man's cock pressing against his leg, was making Percy's heart speed up just a little bit, and his breath become just a bit shallower. _I intend to do to him what he did to me,_ he thought. _I want to make him feel as good as he made me feel._ He didn't quite know what to do, but he thought that he would do what Oliver did to him, and that would be fine. 

Percy felt Oliver's hips press against his own once more, and he looked at Oliver, raising one eyebrow. "Oh, really?" he said, his fingers fidgeting with the button on Oliver's trousers. "Well, I suppose we'll have to see about that." His fingers deftly unfastened Oliver's trousers and removed them quickly. He wasn't very surprised at what he saw; he had seen Oliver naked more than one time when they had been in school, but he had never seen Oliver hard when they were in school. This was amazing. Oliver's cock was huge, much bigger erect than it had been flaccid. It was leaking copious amounts of pre-come, and Percy wanted so badly to taste it, but that would come later. Right now, he intended to make Oliver crazy by avoiding his erection, playing with every other part of his body but ignoring the part that needed the most attention. His fingers returned to Oliver's nipples, his nails grazing over them lightly, and his mouth to Oliver's lips, kissing him passionately and urgently. 

Oliver gasped. He hadn't thought that Percy had it in him to do anything like this, much less take control of this type of situation, like it seemed that he was doing. Oddly, Oliver didn't mind that he wasn't in control; he liked what Percy was doing, though he wanted it to go faster. He wanted Percy to pay attention to his cock, to lick it and suck it until he came, but it didn't look like that would be happening immediately. 

"Switch me," Percy said suddenly. He wanted Oliver to be lying on his back, so he, Percy, could be above him and in control. 

Oliver complied immediately. It meant that he was no longer in control at all, but now he didn't care at all. He wanted this. Badly. 

Percy smiled. Excellent, he thought as he placed light kisses on Oliver's jawline, wanting to taste every inch of the other man. He lightly bit Oliver's earlobes, spent several minutes kissing and sucking his neck--he wanted to give Oliver a hickey, to show that he, Percy I Weasley, had been there--, and moved on to Oliver's chest. He drew one of Oliver's nipples into his mouth and allowed his teeth to graze over the hardened flesh. His tongue flicked over it after his teeth, soothing the nipple. He did that to the other one, and then began a slow descent to Oliver's crotch. He kissed every rib, and swirled his tongue around Oliver's navel. 

Finally, he reached Oliver's hips. He kissed each of Oliver's hipbones, and then moved to his inner thighs, explicitly avoiding Oliver's leaking cock, no matter how much he wanted to take care of it. 

_Get on with it,_ Oliver thought, letting out a loud groan to show Percy how much he wanted--no, needed--this. "C'mon," he moaned, wanting to thrust up into Percy's mouth, but not wanting to take control of the situation. Best to let Percy learn how to do things his own way, while still getting Oliver off. 

Percy accidentally-on-purpose brushed his hand against Oliver's cock, and was almost surprised at how amazingly hard it actually was. He didn't think his own had ever been that hard, but he hadn't teased himself; he'd simply wanked off and been done with it. This, though, this was more special, more important than simply getting the job done. It was how he did the job that mattered. This time, he let his tongue flicker across the head of Oliver's erection. "You taste good," he murmured. 

Without warning, Oliver felt his cock being totally engulfed by Percy's mouth. The warm wetness was amazing. It was worth the wait, he felt, which was unusual. He usually wanted instant gratification, but with Percy, it seemed to be different, and he found that he didn't mind. _For a first-timer,_ Oliver thought, _he...certainly knows what he's doing._

"You don't have to do...anything you don't...want to do," Oliver said, his voice coming out in little gasps, his tone negating any meaning the words might have had. 

Percy removed his mouth from Oliver's erection and looked up at the other man. "I want to do this," he said. "I want to make you feel as good as you made me feel." His lips went back to Oliver's cock, but this time only briefly kissing it, tasting more of the addictive fluid. He wanted this to last. He wanted Oliver to have an earth-shattering orgasm, caused by him. Percy never thought that he would be doing this, sucking off Oliver Wood after having been sucked off by the same man. Furthermore, he'd never thought he would have been doing this with a man, but he found that he couldn't imagine doing this with a woman anymore. His tongue flicked over Oliver's slit, grabbing a drop of pre-come and savouring it. 

This was pure torment for Oliver. He knew that it was going to be absolutely amazing—or he hoped it would be—when he came, but right now, it was sheer torture to have to wait for Percy's mouth to envelop his length once more. 

He didn't have to wait long. Tired of just tasting a little bit of Oliver at a time, Percy engulfed the other man's erection in his mouth, his tongue swirling around Oliver's length. One of his hands snaked up to Oliver's chest, lazily playing with one of his nipples. He kept his other hand at his side. He knew what he was going to do with it, but he wanted to wait like Oliver had waited for him; he wanted to give Oliver as much stimulation as was possible. 

"Fuck," Oliver moaned. It was, quite possibly, one of his favourite words in the English language, but it rarely came out, unless he was in this type of situation, where he was being pleasured by someone who, though it was his first time, seemed to know exactly what to do. The attention given to both his cock and his nipple was sending him into overdrive. He loved it. "Fuck, amazing..." 

Percy smiled around Oliver's erection. He was glad; it meant that he was doing well, even though he'd never done this before. Now, he decided, it was time to put his other hand to use. It began to gently massage Oliver's testicles, and slowly he began to increase the pressure. Percy removed Oliver's cock from his mouth, flicking his tongue over the head and then beginning to lick the shaft up and down very slowly, wanting to draw this out even longer. 

When Oliver felt Percy's hand on his testicles, he felt a tightening in his balls. He was going to come soon, and he wanted so badly for Percy to take it, but he didn't want to make the other man uncomfortable. "Perce..." he moaned. He couldn't form many words, and this was a sort of warning that he was going to explode any second. He thought it would be best to warn, unlike with some of the other people he fooled around with; perhaps it was just because it was Percy, or because, in the deep recesses of his mind, he wanted to see Percy again. 

Percy took Oliver's moan to mean that he was going to come, and he once again engulfed Oliver's cock in his mouth. He wanted to taste Oliver's come. Removing his mouth from Oliver's erection for only a second, he murmured, "Come for me. I want you to come in my mouth, and I want to swallow it all." He didn't know if he would be able to swallow it all, but he would certainly make a valiant effort. Oliver's cock was in his mouth once again, and he was applying intense suction, wanting to get as much come out of the other man as was possible. 

Oliver heard Percy's words, and he couldn't hold back any longer. His hips thrust upwards as he came; there was no way that he could have remained still. 

Percy drew in a sharp breath when he felt Oliver's testicles draw up, and he prepared himself as best as he knew how by opening his mouth slightly and trying to open his throat to be able to take as much as possible. The first spurt of come hit him in the back of the throat, and he almost choked. He moved slightly, so it wouldn't hit him there again, and then it was more comfortable. He was constantly swallowing, and his tongue was still swirling around the head of Oliver's erection. Percy wanted Oliver's orgasm to last a long time. 

When Oliver finally stopped coming, he pulled his softening cock out of Percy's mouth. "Fuck, Percy," he moaned. "A perfectionist in everything you do, aren't you?" 

Percy moved up the couch so he could lie beside Oliver. "Are you complaining?" 


	4. I Want All of You

"Bloody hell, no," Oliver said, pressing his lips to Percy's, enjoying those amazing lips, the ones he knew would continue to amaze and even shock him at least for the rest of the night. "So," he continued almost conversationally, "in these fantasies of yours, what else happened?"

_Fantasies?_ Percy wondered. He didn't know if he could tell Oliver what else had happened in his fantasies. "Well..." Percy began, a deep blush creeping up his cheeks, "...well..." 

"Oh, come on, Percy," Oliver said, a very slight hint of impatience in his voice. "We just sucked each others’ cocks; surely you can tell me what you used to fantasise about when we were in school." He looked over at the other man, who was blushing furiously. Oliver reached out to stroke Percy's cheek; he found the colour Percy was turning rather attractive. "Don't be embarrassed," he continued, his accent growing a bit thicker, which it always seemed to do in times like these.

Percy smiled, despite his embarrassment, still blushing furiously. He supposed Oliver was right; they had both just sucked each other off, and that was a pretty personal, intimate thing, at least in his mind. He drew in a deep breath and said shakily, "Well...umm..." He found it very difficult to say what he wanted to say. He just wasn't used to using such language. "Well," he started again, finding that averting his eyes from Oliver's made it slightly easier to speak, "...well... I...I always wanted to, uh... to...fuck you...and ...uh...have you, uh...fuck me..." His blush was returning in full force, and he felt like his face was on fire. He didn't know why he was so embarrassed. Oliver didn't seem to have problems talking about things like this; why should he?

Though he would never admit it, Oliver found the colour that Percy was turning rather cute. Cute was not a word that entered Oliver Wood's vocabulary. It was far too frou-frou for him. He smiled, all the while trying to appear cool and collected, when in actuality his insides were churning and he felt a twitch in his nether regions. "That can be arranged," Oliver said, trying to sound breezy, even though he felt like he was about to explode at the thought of fucking Percy, or being fucked by Percy, or Percy just saying the word.

_It can be arranged?_ Percy thought, feeling a shiver down his spine and his cock stirring to life once more. He couldn't think of anything better at the moment than fucking the man he'd fantasised about for so much of his life, lying this close to him after being sucked off. He loved the feeling of being sucked off by Oliver, of sucking Oliver off, and now hearing that his fantasies can be arranged. "Good," Percy heard his voice saying, feeling as though he was outside his own body. "I'd like that. A lot." It was actually going to happen, something he'd dreamed about since his years as a student at Hogwarts, sharing a dormitory with the other man. He'd never thought it would; he'd thought that Oliver had only fancied birds, and would never even entertain a thought for him, but now...well, now it seemed that the world had turned upside down in the space of a few hours, and Percy found that he didn't mind.

Oliver pulled Percy close, capturing his lips into a deep kiss. His tongue darted out to brush Percy's lips briefly, tasting the wonderful combination of both Percy, and traces of himself. He, too, never thought that anything like this would be occurring. He had always taken Percy for a self-absorbed bookworm, one who would never allow himself any sort of pleasure. Oliver was pleased that he had been wrong. _Very_ pleased.

Oliver pulled away from the kiss, looking at Percy as though he was contemplating something. He bit his lip and furrowed his brow. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity but in reality was only several seconds, he made his decision. He stood, slid his arms under Percy's slender frame, and picked him up. If he could navigate his flat half-drunk, he certainly could navigate it in the dark. Walking through the hall, he stubbed his toe on a sharp corner of the wall, and tripped over a few Quidditch books he'd left piled in front of the door, but he hoped Percy hadn't noticed him stumble. Oliver had decided that a change of scenery was in order for the new...activities...but until he walked through the door, it hadn't occurred to him how many people had been in his bed, doing this same thing. _This is different, though,_ he thought, trying to convince himself that, despite his feelings, he was not getting attached. It would not happen. Oliver Wood did not attach himself to anyone.

Percy leaned into Oliver's lips, enjoying every moment, and pouted a bit when Oliver pulled away, and even more when Oliver got off the couch. He felt strangely empty and alone now, with Oliver away from him. _That's peculiar,_ he thought, casting his eyes upwards to look at Oliver, who looked deep in thought. _What could be on his mind?_ he wondered, when he felt Oliver's hands beneath him and felt himself being lifted off the couch. He could have laughed. This was, to him, one of the most cliched gestures ever, being carried off to what he assumed would be Oliver's bedroom, but he knew that this was neither the time nor place to be laughing. He felt Oliver stumble, but he didn't mention it. As he was carried through the door, his foot hit the wall, but he didn't say or do anything. He just wanted Oliver to continue doing whatever he had planned to do; he knew it would be excellent no matter what.

For Percy, this was a slightly unusual feeling for him; he had not been carried like this since he had been a small child. He hadn't even been held in many years. It was very strange to be held whilst completely nude, and he found himself becoming slightly turned on by the warm roughness of Oliver's hands on his skin. He felt Oliver lean down and kiss him lightly, which caused a shiver to run down his spine. That simple gesture meant more to Percy than he'd ever thought a kiss would. This felt special, and Percy wanted to savour every moment of this, whatever this was. He didn't want to read too much into it, though; he had a habit of becoming attached, and he thought that Oliver was much more nomadic than he. _Don't think about it,_ he ordered himself. _Just enjoy the moment._

This hadn't been what Percy had thought "de-stress" would mean. He had assumed it would be something like massage or meditation or some sort of new age-y mumbo jumbo, but this...this he preferred to any of that crap. As he felt himself being set on a bed, he relaxed slightly. This had to be the best thing that had ever happened to him. It was lucky, he thought, that he had gone to that pub and run into Oliver, and allowed Oliver to convince him to learn how to de-stress. Percy looked up and saw Oliver staring at him. "Come here," Percy said quietly. _I want to ravage you silly,_ some usually-silent part of his brain piped up. This thought surprised Percy, until he realised that it was true. He **did** want to ravage Oliver silly. It sounded like the best idea that had been had by anyone, ever.

"Anything you say," Oliver said, crawling up the bed beside Percy, hard again at the sight of the other man lying on his bed. How many other people had been there before Percy? Oliver couldn't even count. _Not that it matters now,_ he thought, mentally slapping himself after he thought it. He couldn't let this happen. He didn't become attached to anyone. Ever. Oliver continued until he was on top of Percy, lying flat on the other man's chest, his arms bracing him on either side, worried that his weight might crush Percy. He was more muscular than the other man, and he didn't want to injure Percy in any way.

Percy pulled Oliver on top of him, not worried about the weight. He might look scrawny, but Percy was stronger than anyone would suspect. He didn't think that Oliver was heavier than him, or, if he was, he didn't worry about it. It didn't matter to him. All that mattered to him at the moment was Oliver, touching him, kissing him, sucking him, fucking him... everything good. "Anything I say, hmm?" Percy murmured, kissing Oliver's temples lightly. "This might get interesting, then." He didn't know how it might get interesting; it had just seemed like the right thing to say at the moment. He pressed his lips against Oliver's with fervor, wanting just to feel Oliver against him, touching and caressing him. Percy wanted—and needed—this more than he had ever needed anything ever, he felt.

"What do you want, Percy?" Oliver asked. How might it get interesting? he wondered. He knew--or at least hoped--he would find out soon. _I wonder if he knows what he's doing?_ he thought, smirking slightly. He pressed small kisses to Percy's cheeks, nose, and jawline, his fingers running restlessly up and down the other man's chest.

"You," Percy answered simply. "All of you."


	5. Do you really have to ask?

Percy didn't think he had ever spoken truer words. He had found Oliver attractive since he entered puberty at age 13, but wouldn't admit it to himself until he was 15 and had seen Oliver nude in the dormitory. When he thought of it now, he thought it was odd for him to have seen Oliver nude so late in their years together. After that incident, it seemed that he saw Oliver nude all of the time in the dormitory. After he'd seen that, he couldn't stop admitting to himself that he found Oliver attractive. He had secretly hoped to be in the dormitory every time that Oliver undressed, and often made a covert point of heading up there whenever he thought Oliver would. He had hated himself for it, hated himself for finding another bloke attractive, but now... now all of his self-deprecating thoughts had been erased. Now he was lying naked beneath the man who had occupied his fantasies for so many years. It was wonderful.

Oliver smiled and pressed a light kiss to Percy's nose. "You're going to have to be more specific, Perce," he said with a grin. He bit Percy's ear playfully, pulling gently on it with his teeth, and then releasing it and flicking his tongue over the slightly reddened lobe. Oliver watched as Percy's chest rose rapidly as he sucked in a shallow gasp of air. Just the reaction he'd wanted. Oliver rocked back, so he was sitting up and most of his weight was resting on his knees, and he was above Percy, watching him closely. One of his fingers trailed lazily down Percy's chest, circling each nipple slowly, flicking over the pebbled flesh, and moving languidly down the rest of his torso. His fingers traced around the base of Percy's erection, not actually touching it but more admiring it, desiring it, almost needing it. _No,_ he told himself. _I do not **need** anything. I just **want** this, and it's a good learning experience for him._ "C'mon, Percy, just tell me," Oliver said, grinning at the other man, whose eyes were squeezed shut and mouth slightly open, giving Oliver a glimpse of his flaming red tongue and stark-white teeth. That mouth… he thought, his breath hitching in his throat briefly.

Percy drew in a sharp breath when he felt Oliver playing with his body, biting and touching him so gently. He didn't know if he could handle much more of the torturous teasing. He wanted so badly to have Oliver fuck him, and to fuck Oliver, and do whatever else he could do and have done to him. In a sudden burst of confidence, Percy said, "I want you to fuck me, and I want to fuck you. I want to feel you inside me, and feel what it's like to be inside you." Where he was getting this unusual confidence, Percy didn't know. Only a few hours before, he would have been mortified to use this type of language, especially saying it to a member of his same sex. He might have been thinking these things, but wouldn't have dreamed of saying them. Now, though, he knew things were different. A good sort of different, and Percy didn't mind at all.

Merlin, how could Oliver resist Percy when he spoke like that? _I can't,_ Oliver thought, feeling another, stronger twitch in his nether regions. He had just never expected Percy, righteous, law-abiding Percy, to use such language and want such debaucherous things. His heart pounding harder than it had all night, he leaned over and captured Percy's lips in a bruising kiss. He bit Percy's lower lip roughly and then pulled it into his mouth, tenderly sucking and licking the bitten lip to soothe and arouse. Oliver lost himself in the kiss for a moment, but then remembered that he had more...pressing...things to do, and reluctantly pulled away. "Roll over," he commanded, stroking Percy's cheek lightly.

Oliver's favourite thing about Percy, he realised, was his freckles. In school, he had always wondered if Percy had such dense freckles all over his body. Tonight, he had found out. Yes. Yes, he did, and it turned Oliver on more than he'd ever expected.

Percy complied immediately. He was slightly worried, however, about how whatever Oliver was about to do would feel. Would it hurt? He'd heard that the first time for girls hurt, but he didn't know what things would be like for him. _It's Oliver,_ he reminded himself. _Oliver won't hurt me. He'll be careful and gentle._ He knew, deep down, that he would be okay, but he felt his heartbeat speeding up and his breathing becoming shallower and shallower with each passing second. Percy took in a deep, slow breath through his nose, letting it out through his mouth in an attempt to calm himself down. It wasn't working too well. _It will be fine,_ he told himself firmly. _Even if it does hurt a little bit at first. People wouldn't continue to do this if it always hurt..._

"Good boy," Oliver murmured. "Always eager to get ahead, you are." He smiled and kissed the back of Percy's neck lightly, his fingers dancing over the soft skin. He trailed light kisses down Percy's back, feeling the other man squirm underneath his feather-light touch, and smiling to himself. Things were going exactly as he wanted them to go. If things continued his way, the evening would round out perfectly, and Percy would have released every bit of stress and tension in his body.

Oliver licked down Percy's spine, leaving a trail of cool saliva on Percy's warm skin. He paused before he reached Percy's rear end, giving the other man a moment to ready himself and take in several more deep breaths. "Ready?" he murmured, unsure if Percy could hear him. Without warning, Oliver flicked his tongue over Percy's cheeks, and it slid between the two globes of flesh, flicking over his anus and finally in, past the tight ring of muscle. He pulled his tongue out after a second, and used his hands to gently pull apart Percy's cheeks, massaging them lightly as his tongue again pushed into Percy's tight, virgin hole, licking in circles slowly, wanting to prepare Percy.

Percy jumped involuntarily when Oliver began to lick his back. His back had always been a very sensitive area for him; Penelope had rubbed it a fair amount when they had been dating back in school, and though he hadn't been terribly interested in her, it had still caused him quite a bit of pleasure--and pain due to lack of release--when she did it. "Oh...Oliver..." Percy sighed softly, enjoying it very much. Suddenly, though, he felt a completely unexpected--but not unwelcome--sensation. Oliver's tongue was inside him, moving very slowly. Percy's heartbeat sped up even more with every lick that Oliver was giving him. "Fuck, Oliver," he moaned. "That's...amazing..."

Oliver smiled. He pulled his tongue out briefly, and flicked it over Percy's entrance, wanting to tease him a bit more before he gave him more pleasure. Oliver's right hand moved up to massage Percy's back, wanting him to relax. It would make it a lot easier for both of them if Percy would just relax and stop tensing his muscles. His technique worked. He felt Percy's breathing slow down a bit, and his muscles relax slightly. _Good,_ he thought, as he worked his tongue back inside Percy once more. The thought of Percy's tight hole made his cock twitch, and he knew that he would be needing release soon, but right now, his focus was all on Percy. He wanted Percy to experience everything there was to experience, to get everything he'd never gotten before. He hummed lightly, trying to give Percy even more stimulation.

Percy jumped when he felt Oliver's tongue push inside him. He'd never even had sex with a woman before, though now he didn't want to, if things with a man could be this amazing. _Or maybe it's just Oliver,_ he thought with a grin. _Maybe it's just Oliver who's amazing._ His last thought was proven as he felt Oliver's hand begin to massage his back, and the vibrations of Oliver's hum against his hole. He didn't know if he could handle this much longer without coming—maybe multiple times. He loved it when Oliver touched his back. It caused all of the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end, and his cock to pulse every time. Percy let out a soft moan, trying to indicate to Oliver that he did indeed enjoy all of this, and that he didn't want Oliver to stop.

Oliver rubbed a bit harder on Percy's back, trying to get him to relax even more. It would make it even easier and more enjoyable for Percy if he would calm himself down and simply enjoy the moment instead of tensing up and being worried about things. His teeth lightly grazed the flesh around Percy's anus, trying to contrast the pleasure with a bit of pain. He enjoyed a bit of pain himself, as long as it was followed by gentle touches, and he wanted to try the same with Percy. Though Oliver didn't want Percy to be spent after this round alone, he was somewhat curious to see how long Percy could go, and how many orgasms he could have in one night. He wanted to be the one to provide Percy with the best night of his life; he wanted it to be Percy's most memorable evening. So far, he thought he was succeeding.

Percy moaned very loudly, a sound that was almost otherworldly, it was so guttural and loud. He was enjoying this more than he'd ever thought he would. The contrast of pain and pleasure was amazing, and he never wanted it to end. Oliver's touches were gentle and rough at the same time, and they were so well-placed. "Fuck, Oliver," he groaned loudly. He wanted this so badly. He wanted Oliver to make him come again and again and again, and he felt like it was going to happen tonight. He, too, wanted to see how long he could go. He'd never tried for multiple orgasms; with him, it was a simple wank and then it was over until the next night, when he'd wank in the shower or in his bed, shamefully, before going to sleep.

Oliver almost laughed to himself when he heard Percy's loud comment, but he continued teasing Percy with his tongue, flicking it over Percy's hole, and then rolling it and twisting it inside of Percy, opening his tongue once it was inside Percy. He very badly wanted to fill Percy with his aching cock, but he knew it wouldn't be very kind to Percy if he did it immediately. He had to work up to that, touching him with his tongue, and then fingers, and then, finally, the tour de force, his cock.

Oliver's left hand snaked around Percy's body to grasp the other man's cock in his hand, stroking it up and down as best as he could, with it pressed against the sheets the way it was. He knew that the added stimulation would make Percy come quicker, and that was his object. He wanted to get Percy off as many times as he could, and Oliver didn't think it would stop anytime soon. He still had a lot of things he wanted to do to and with Percy, and he knew that they would all be well-received, and Oliver would be rewarded with orgasms of his own as well as of Percy. He loved the face Percy made when he came, scrunched up and flushed with a deep blush. Just thinking of it made him want to make Percy come, just to see that face. 

When Percy felt Oliver's hand on his cock, he let out a loud, guttural moan. He didn't know how long he could last anymore, but he knew it wouldn't be very long. "Fuck, Oliver," he moaned. "That feels so good." He thrust his hips involuntarily into Oliver's hand, wanting and needing the added stimulation. Oliver's tongue in his hole and his hand on his cock were coupled to make Percy feel completely amazing. He relaxed even further, thinking only of the pleasure he was being provided. His eyes slid shut and his breathing turned into soft moans, getting slightly faster as Oliver continued his ministrations. It was fantastic. Percy didn't think he could even consider sex with a woman anymore, if Oliver was this amazing with his tongue. He couldn't imagine how good Oliver would be with his cock, if he was this talented with only his mouth.

Reluctantly, Oliver moved his face away, pressing light kisses to Percy's tailbone, concentrating more on what his hand was doing to Percy's cock. His other hand took over for his tongue, pressing one finger inside Percy, giving him more depth. He circled his finger around inside Percy, trying to allow the other man to get used to the feeling of something larger than a tongue inside him, trying to prepare Percy for the feeling of his cock inside his anus. A second finger followed the first, stretching Percy further, wanting to make sure that he would be able to take Oliver's cock inside him. His left hand continued to move up and down, still stroking Percy's erection roughly, wanting the other man to come, and come hard. "You feel so good," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the base of Percy's spine.

When he felt Oliver move away from his hole, Percy let out a small noise of disappointment. He hadn't wanted it to stop, ever. Suddenly, he felt something else penetrating him--it must have been Oliver's finger. It was larger and longer than a tongue, but it wasn't Oliver's cock. It hurt him only for a moment; he thought it would soon get better. He bit down on Oliver's sheets, trying to prevent himself from crying out. He didn't want to seem weak. He didn't want it to look like he couldn't handle what Oliver was doing and wanted to do; he certainly wanted to be the recipient of whatever Oliver wanted to do. Slowly, he felt the pain dissipate, and as soon as it had, Percy felt another finger enter him, stretching him slightly further and reaching even deeper inside him. This caused another, lesser wave of pain to wash over him. This pain disappeared quicker than the first bit of pain, perhaps because he was more used to the feeling of a foreign object inside him. Whatever it was, Percy didn't mind, as long as Oliver didn't stop doing what he was doing. Within seconds, Percy felt the now-familiar sensation of the tightening in his testicles; with a shout, he came for what seemed like an eternity, spilling all over the sheets.

As Percy came, Oliver scissored his fingers, trying to stretch Percy even further. He knew that the other man would be in pain for several moments before his cock entered, but he would be gentle. Oliver didn't want to hurt Percy. This was one of the first times that he would consciously be gentle with a partner. Other times, he just pushed in to get himself off; he didn't bother with the feelings of the other person very much. With sex, it was usually all about Oliver and how he got off. Oliver trailed kisses up Percy's back, feeling the other man spill all over his sheets and his hands. The sheets will have to be cleaned at the end of the night, he thought, smiling to himself. That didn't matter at the moment. What mattered was what was happening and what was about to happen. Oliver kissed the hollow between Percy's neck and shoulder and murmured in his ear, "Do you want me inside you?"

Percy was still breathing hard and didn't even realise that Oliver had spoken until a few moments later. When he had calmed down, he registered what Oliver had said. Do I want him inside me? Percy thought, almost grinning. Does he really have to ask? "Do you really have to ask?" Percy asked, his voice husky. Oliver's mouth on his neck was making him hard again, even though he had just had one of the most mind-blowing orgasms he'd ever enjoyed. It didn't really seem to matter anymore, the length of time between an orgasm and another erection. It seemed that he would have a permanent erection, and that didn't bother him at all, as long as it was satisfied by Oliver.


	6. Safe?

Looking at Percy, Oliver saw that, if he had wanted to, he could have easily removed his fingers and pushed his cock into the other man, but it was Percy's first time, and he wanted to be gentle. He _wanted_ to be _gentle_. This was most unusual. He pulled his fingers out of Percy very slowly, and stroked the other man's spine lightly, wanting to get him even more aroused than he already was. He felt Percy shiver underneath him and he smiled.

Oliver leaned up and nibbled Percy's ear lightly. "Then you'll have to turn over again," he whispered in the other man's ear. He kissed Percy's jawline and then reached over him into the nightstand beside his bed. Inside the top drawer was a mishmash of junk, but what Oliver was looking for, he found within the first three seconds. He pulled out a tube of lubricant and a condom, and moved back over beside Percy, tearing the package open.

Percy complied immediately. It was easy to see why he'd been made prefect and then Head Boy; he did whatever was asked of him without further question, Oliver thought, smiling. Percy looked up at Oliver with a mix of worry and excitement in his face. He knew it was going to be good, but Percy was also worried that it was going to hurt. A lot. Even more than Oliver's fingers had. _But,_ Percy thought, looking at Oliver as he pulled two curious items from his nightstand, _it will get better...won't it?_

"What are those?" Percy asked curiously, looking at the two unknown items in Oliver's hand. He felt kind of silly, not knowing, but he wanted to be aware of everything that was happening, and, though he felt like a complete imbecile, remember everything about it, in case it didn't happen again. I hope it does, he found himself thinking. 

Oliver smirked. He had learned about these—the condoms, at least—from one of his many faceless Muggle partners, who had insisted on "safe sex," which, at the time, Oliver did not know about. He had never heard of safe sex, or how it wasn't safe in the first place. After that man had explained it to him, however, Oliver used condoms all the time when he was with someone. _It just doesn't make sense not to,_ he thought every time. It was one of his most rational thoughts, considering the number of random partners he had had.

"This," Oliver said, holding up the condom, "is a condom. It will keep us safe." He tore open the package and stretched the condom over his erect penis, making sure it was on snugly and all the way. "This," he continued, holding up the tube, "is lubricant. This will make it hurt less for you. I promise that I'll be gentle, and stop if you want me to." He pressed a light kiss to Percy's forehead and felt something like affection for the other man. _Stop,_ he ordered himself. _This is nothing. Absolutely nothing._ He wanted to believe himself, but he was finding it difficult.

"Safe?" Percy asked, feeling stupid. He didn't quite understand. What was dangerous about what they were doing or about to do? He furrowed his brows, trying to figure it out on his own, but to no avail. _Damn it,_ he thought, _why can't I figure this out?_ He didn't understand why Oliver was resorting to an unfamiliar thing when he could have just used a spell. _Maybe it feels better,_ his mind told him. While he was waiting for Oliver's response to his question, he gazed upon Oliver's erection in the condom, which was still fascinating him. Seeing how hard Oliver was made Percy feel even more aroused, if it was even possible.

"Yes, safe," Oliver repeated, squeezing a generous amount of lube into his hands and slathering it onto himself. He wanted to make this as comfortable and painless for Percy as he possibly could. "Because sex is messy and dirty and can sometimes be full of diseases." He didn't want to scare Percy, but it was a good idea to get him into the mindset that he needed to be careful when having sex, or he could regret himself, and Oliver never wanted anyone to regret having sex with him. Discussing this more could make him lose his erection, and that was the last thing he wanted. He wanted to feel how wonderful Percy's virgin hole would feel around his cock, and he wanted this to be as wonderful for Percy as it possibly could be. "Tell me if it hurts, and I'll be slower," Oliver said softly, aligning his cock with Percy's entrance. He looked at Percy, making sure that this was still all right.

Percy didn't quite understand, but he didn't ask any further questions. Perhaps they would discuss it later. He hoped so. He didn't like not knowing things. "Thank you," Percy said quietly, biting his lower lip in a combination of anxiety and excitement. He knew that Oliver knew that this was his first time with a man; did Oliver also know that it was Percy's first time, period? Percy wasn't sure, but he wasn't about to bring it up. This was neither the time nor place for personal history. Maybe it would come later, if there was a later.

Of course Oliver knew that it was Percy's first time. He could always tell. They were more excited than those who had done it before; they were also much more nervous, especially men who hadn't been with men before. They seemed to be the most nervous of the whole bunch, and usually Oliver didn't care, but the thought that Percy was different kept coming back to him, no matter how hard he tried to push it from his brain. "Don't thank me yet," Oliver said, grunting, pushing himself into Percy very slowly and gently, taking what seemed like an eternity to get his entire length into the other man. "We can...we can discuss this later." He paused inside of Percy, waiting for him to get used to the feeling of a cock inside him before he moved.

It did hurt. It hurt quite a bit, Percy found, and he bit his lip, hard, trying to focus on something else so he wouldn't think so much about the sheer pain he was feeling at the moment. _It will get better,_ he thought. _It has to get better...doesn't it?_ What if it didn't get better? What would he do then? He didn't know, but he didn't want to think about that. He only wanted to focus on what would happen in the near future, things getting much better. He drew in a sharp breath when Oliver's entire length filled him. He didn't want to tell Oliver it hurt, but he was sure that the other man could tell from his facial expressions, which he was desperately trying to control but obviously failing miserably.

Oliver leaned down and gave Percy a gentle kiss to help him take his mind off things. "It will get better," he said. "It only hurts the first time. I promise." Percy was so tight that his cock was practically singing at the sensations, though the fact that Percy was in pain took some of the pleasure out of the activity. He had a sudden idea, and he lifted one of Percy's legs so it was resting on his own shoulder. "This should help," he said, his breath short. Oliver had found that he enjoyed this position more, and he hoped that it would alleviate some of the pain that Percy was feeling. It would open him up a bit more, which would make it more comfortable. "Just relax."

Relaxing was the last thing Percy thought he could do. He felt himself clenching, though he knew that was a bad idea, as it was making him hurt even more. _**Relax,**_ he ordered himself, even though it was against his nature to do so. He took a deep breath, focusing only on relaxing. He allowed Oliver to move his leg, and he found that the change in position did help, if only a little bit. He was feeling slightly less pain than he had several seconds ago, and a considerable amount of less pain than he had several minutes ago. It was definitely getting better; it was just taking what felt like an eternity. _It will be worth it,_ he told himself. _It will all be amazing soon...I hope..._

Oliver felt Percy relaxing bit by bit, and he gave the other man a slight smile. "You're so hot like this," he murmured, his finger lightly tracing Percy's jawline before his mouth followed the same path. He thought this would relax Percy even more, and he was right. He felt Percy's breathing get slightly deeper, and his muscles relax more. _Good,_ he thought. _This will make it a lot easier._ "You're...so tight...feels so good..." he groaned, kissing Percy again. Knowing, however, that he was hurting Percy still took a little bit of the pleasure out of the entire activity.

Percy was trying with all of his might to relax, and slowly, he was succeeding. He let out a breath he hadn't known he had been holding, and concentrated now only on what Oliver was doing. It was beginning to feel very good, and he let out a soft moan to tell Oliver wordlessly that he was enjoying it. The only thing that was beginning to be painful was his erection, which was begging for attention. His hand slid down his front and began stroking his aching cock, closing his eyes at the many sensations bombarding him at the moment.

"Open your eyes," Oliver commanded when he saw Percy close them. "I want you to remember all of this." He saw Percy's hand grasp his erection, and though Oliver knew that he wouldn't need it to get himself off, he would allow it, since it did look uncomfortable. His right hand joined Percy's in stroking his erection, matching Percy's strokes. His left hand began rubbing Percy's side with every thrust, which were getting harder and deeper with every passing second. Now that he knew that Percy was enjoying it, Oliver felt more free to fuck him.

Percy felt Oliver's hand join his own on his cock, and he moaned loudly. "Oh, Oliver," he groaned, "that feels so good..." This felt so amazing that Percy never wanted it to end. He forced his eyes open with a fair amount of difficulty. He wanted to watch, but his eyes wanted to close and lose themselves in the pleasure that Oliver was providing him at the moment. In an attempt to keep his eyes open, he focused his gaze on Oliver and his cock moving in and out of Percy's hole. He was enjoying that Oliver's thrusts were getting harder and deeper, and he moaned loudly, attempting to indicate without words that he quite enjoyed what Oliver was doing.

_Good,_ Oliver thought with a smile, shifting position slightly to hit that one spot that he knew would send Percy over the edge. That was his ultimate goal, to make Percy come as many times as he possibly could in that night. He had told Percy that he would show him how to release stress, and what better way to do that than with a great fuck? He began to move slightly slower, watching Percy as he thrust inside him, feeling the velvety tightness enveloping him. He could come at any moment, but he was holding back because he wanted to watch Percy come to shuddering pieces in front of him, which he knew was very close. When that happened, he would let himself go.

Percy felt Oliver shift, and for a moment he was confused. Then he felt Oliver hit a spot that made him feel amazingly good, and he whimpered in surprise and pleasure. "Oh, fuck, Oliver, what was that?" he groaned loudly. Whatever it was, he never wanted Oliver to stop hitting it. He knew that if Oliver did that just a few more times, he would be pushed over the edge in a glorious orgasm. Though he never wanted this to end, he was feeling a need for release that would be satisfied very soon if Oliver kept doing everything he was doing. He wanted to do this to Oliver, though. He wanted to make Oliver feel as good as Oliver was making him feel. He had wanted to do this to Oliver for years, and now that he was fulfilling part of his fantasy, Percy didn't see why they couldn't fulfill the rest of it. He moaned once more, very loudly, taking in a gasping breath.

Oliver smirked, pushing his cock into that spot once more. "Your prostate," he said, taking in a shallow breath himself. "You know," he said almost conversationally, "for someone so intelligent, you don't know very much about yourself." His hand squeezed Percy's cock, feeling himself almost lose control. _No,_ he told himself. _Don't...don't let yourself...until he does.._ Though he wanted to last, he couldn't. He felt himself reach the point of no return, and he leaned down and kissed Percy passionately, slowing down his motions slightly as he came. He knew Percy wasn't quite there yet, so he continued to move in and out, almost hoping that Percy would never come so this could last forever.

Percy nodded. He had heard of it, of course, but he hadn't known it could feel so amazing when pressure was applied to it just right. When Oliver kissed him, Percy kissed back ferociously, his fervour matching his excitement. He wouldn't allow Oliver to pull away; no, he wanted to maintain as much contact as he could. When he felt Oliver begin to come, even though he was still wearing that strange condom, he could feel his come—or what was going into the condom—hitting that spot inside him again and again, and Percy couldn't handle it any longer, and he let himself go, coming all over both his and Oliver's hands, as well as his stomach and probably the sheets as well, but he didn't care. All he could think about was his orgasm. His hand was furiously stroking his cock as he came. "Oh, fuck, Oliver, fuck me, fuck..." he moaned loudly, pushing his hips forward so Oliver's cock was driven as far into him as possible. He never wanted this to end.

Oliver grinned but didn't say anything. It made his cock twitch to hear Percy use such language, even though it wasn't the first time that night. It still felt new to him, hearing Percy use crude words, seeing how proper Percy had been in school. He kissed Percy several more times, letting the other man come back down, and then he pulled out, removing the used condom and tossing it in the trash. He sighed and closed his eyes, letting out a deep breath and just taking a second for himself.

As Percy's orgasm dissipated, he moaned one last time and let out a ragged breath. He gave Oliver a lustful smile. He wanted to do this until they were both so exhausted that they would have to sleep, and then continue when they woke up. Now, however, all he wanted to do was make Oliver feel as good as Oliver had made him feel. He felt Oliver pull out of him and he suddenly, oddly, felt very empty and alone. He wrapped his arms around Oliver, pulling him closer and kissing him soundly. "You're amazing," Percy murmured.


	7. Would you say you're relaxed now?

"I am," Oliver said rather dismissively. He told himself that every day. He knew he was amazing. He was a fantastic Quidditch player and an amazingly attractive bloke who could pull anyone he wanted, whether it be bird or bloke. Lately, though, he'd been leaning more toward blokes, with which he didn't have a problem. They knew what they wanted and weren't afraid to get it, and they knew that one night of shagging didn't really mean anything. Oliver preferred things that way, though he wasn't sure if he would prefer it that way with Percy, which almost worried him. "Yes, I'm so amazing that you'll use me as a yardstick by which to measure all of your future relationships."

_Future relationships?_ Percy wondered. _Will I actually have any of those? I'd prefer to..just...have you…_ He couldn't imagine any further relationships, unless they were with Oliver. "Modest, too," Percy said jokingly, pulling Oliver close for a passionate kiss. "He doesn't even know he's amazing." He kissed Oliver's forehead and began lazily pulling on Oliver's nipples. He knew what he wanted to do, but he didn't know if Oliver wanted it. Tonight, Percy thought, was probably the best night of his life.

Oliver rolled his eyes and then slid a bit closer to Percy. "Are we really going to lie here and talk?" he asked in a slightly joking tone. He didn't really mind either way, but he wanted to know which way his mind should or shouldn't go. He began to lightly rub Percy's stomach while waiting for an answer. He found that the other man had more defined abs than he'd ever expected of such a scrawny man. Oliver wondered how Percy did it; he hadn't pegged Percy to be athletic in any respect, but perhaps there was even another facet to Percy that Oliver hadn't grasped previously. _Obviously he's different than I'd thought,_ Oliver thought, an impish grin on his face. He didn't mind.

Percy snorted. "No," he said, grinning. "Unless you really want to. However...if you're... **up**...for it, I'd like to try to live out the rest of my fantasies." His choice of words was intentional. The double entendre was meant to have been said; it may have sounded corny and ridiculous, but Percy didn't care too much. His fingers began to exert even more pressure on Oliver's nipples, feeling them harden under his fingers. Percy felt himself rising to the occasion once more, and he hoped Oliver could do it, too. He didn't think this would be his last erection, either; he felt like he could go on for hours.

Oliver grinned. "All in one night, Percy?" he asked, shivering as the other man began to apply more pressure to his nipples. That felt amazing, and Oliver didn't want him to stop. He, too, felt himself getting hard once more. This had to be the most erections he'd had in one night. He was surprised that his old roommate, upright citizen Percy Weasley, had done this to him. Had Oliver been told while in school that Percy would end up getting him hard and making him come more than once, he would have scoffed at the messenger, and ignored them. It just wasn't true, was it? Apparently it was, and Oliver didn't mind. He quite enjoyed it, in fact. Oliver enjoyed this side of Percy, the dominant, assured side of him, even more. He wanted—for the first time—to be told what to do and to be taken advantage of. Oliver wasn't one to bottom; no, he preferred to be in control and on top, but for Percy, he was willing to do what he so infrequently did. There was something almost intriguing about letting Percy Weasley have his way with him. "Why don't you just spell out exactly what you want to do to me, then, and we'll see what we can do?"

"I'm greedy," Percy said, his teeth grazing one of Oliver's nipples. "When I find something I like,"--at this he pulled Oliver in for a bruising kiss, pushing his tongue into the other man's mouth, wanting to memorise each and every bit of him,--"I want to play with it for a long time. I want to keep it all to myself and do whatever I want to it." He paused. "Spell out what I intend to do to you, hmm?" Percy's finger lightly traced the hollow between Oliver's chest and neck. "Well," he said, pausing to kiss Oliver's neck, "I want to do to you what you did to me. I want to make you moan. I want to make you come like you've never come before. I want to fuck you, Oliver Wood, and I have for years." In another situation, Percy would have been shocked by the words coming out of his mouth. He _had_ wanted to fuck Oliver for years, but he had never been able to speak his desires out loud. Now, though, when his desires were 'being arranged,' Percy had no problem talking about them. That made it all the more real, and that was exactly what he wanted. He wanted this to be as real as was physically possible, and he wanted to remember it.

Oliver gulped, though he hoped it wasn't noticeably. He rather liked this side of Percy, the demanding and forthright side, the one that took control of a situation and used words that Oliver had never expected of him. That, along with the attention Percy was giving to his nipples and neck, was making Oliver very, very hard. He probably wanted this as much as—or possibly even more than—Percy did. "I suppose," Oliver said, trying very hard to control his voice, "that can be arranged." His attempt at control failed; his voice broke as he said "arranged". Oliver kept his eyes trained on Percy, wondering what the other man was going to do next.

"Could it?" Percy said huskily, running his thumb lightly down Oliver's cheekbone. "Good. I want it to be arranged." He was taking charge of this situation, and, though it felt almost bizarre to be ordering Oliver Wood around while they were completely naked and had been very intimate, he wanted it that way. He wanted to be in control. "Lie on your back," Percy commanded suddenly. "I want to see the expression on your face while I... do this." He pushed Oliver backwards slightly, once again taking more control. 

A shiver ran down Oliver's spine as he listened to Percy's commands. When Percy pushed him backwards, he felt himself getting even harder, if that was even possible. He loved it—surprisingly—that Percy was taking control. It was yet another side of his former roommate that he had never seen. Usually Oliver wasn't one to allow other people control. He was always the one in control, though he was oddly willing to relinquish all of his control, if need be, to get Percy to continue doing whatever it was that he was doing or going to do. He reached behind him to get the pillows from the head of the bed and place them under his rear end. He didn't think he was as flexible as Percy was, and he didn't want to find out, really. The pillows were acceptable for him. Oliver reached into the drawer of his night table and fished out another condom and wordlessly handed it to Percy. He wanted Percy to use it, but since Oliver wasn't in control, he couldn't really make the other man do it.

Percy took the condom silently and studied it for a moment. It took a lot for him to say to Oliver, "Show me?" He just didn't admit that he didn't know how to do something. This time, though, it was more important, he knew. He just didn't quite know why Oliver insisted on these, but maybe Oliver would tell him later. Percy hadn't been watching when Oliver put one on himself; no, he had been squeezing his eyes shut and worrying about the pain he would soon be in. He leaned forward slightly and kissed the head of Oliver's leaking erection, waiting for a response from the other man.

Shit, this was going to be difficult. Oliver shivered in response to Percy's touches on his erection. If he continued doing this, things were going to be over far too soon, and Oliver didn't want that at all. He, too, wanted this to last for a very long time. He smiled when Percy asked him to help him with the condom. Oliver ripped open the package and removed the condom slowly, his eyes on Percy the entire time. He sat up slowly, appreciating his defined abdominal muscles not for the first time, and looked at the other man. "Here," he said in a low voice. He slid the condom slowly over Percy's erection and heard him sigh. He grinned. It was a bit awkward putting a condom on someone else, but it was a good chance to tease Percy a little bit the way Percy had just teased him.

Percy moaned a little bit with Oliver's light touch as he put the condom on. Now that he knew how to do it, he was hoping he would be able to do it many more times with Oliver. Once the condom was on all the way, he gently pushed Oliver backwards so he was lying on his back and Percy was looking down at him. It was perfect, he thought, and he intended to make it better for both of them. "Do you...want the lubricant, too?" Percy asked nervously. He reached for the tube in case Oliver did.

Oliver nodded. He didn't know if he could handle it without. Even though this was far from his first time with a bloke, dry was not his favourite way to go. "Yes," he said as if to illustrate his point. He shivered, thinking about what was going to happen. _Percy Weasley is going to fuck you and make you wonder if you could ever be that good…_ He pushed that thought out of his mind and thought, _I'm quite good; no one could be as good as I am._ A smile crossed his face and he took in a deep breath, waiting for it. 

Percy reached for the lubricant and squeezed a bit into his hand and rubbed that bit on his cock, causing him to jump a bit. Even that was amazing, him wanking himself a little bit. "Ready?" Percy asked Oliver softly, positioning himself right at Oliver's entrance, looking forward very much to what he was about to do.

Oliver nodded in lieu of a response. He missed the self-assured, self-confident Percy of just a moment ago. "Are you?" he asked. He figured that the self-assured Percy would come back soon; at least he hoped so. He thought that it would return when Percy was inside him, having his way with him, and Oliver couldn't wait. Oliver hoped that Percy had that in him, to have his way with him and make him come again and again.

Instead of an answer, Percy slowly pushed himself inside Oliver's tight hole. He let out a cross between a moan and a sigh when he felt the warmth enveloping his erection. "Fuck, Oliver," he groaned. He hadn't thought anything could feel this good. Percy pulled out very slowly, wanting to prolong the pleasure for both of them. He reached down, lightly stroking the thick vein on the underside of Oliver's cock.

Oliver let out a loud groan as Percy pushed himself through the ring of muscle, his face arranging itself in a less than attractive position as he tried to get used to the feeling. He didn't want Percy to try to get him off with his hands, though; he wanted to see how far he could go without his hands, without his cock being touched at all. He pulled Percy down into a passionate kiss, trying wordlessly to tell him that he didn't want Percy to wank him off at all.

Percy took Oliver's silent hint and pressed his lips to the other man's, returning Oliver's passion with a heated kiss of his own. He assumed—correctly—that Oliver didn't want him to touch his erection, and he complied. _As he wishes,_ he thought, his eyes almost lighting up. He let out a loud groan, loving the feel of Oliver's tight muscles gripping his erection. He knew that soon, he would be losing control, and he didn't want that to happen just yet. He wanted this to last.

Things soon fell into an easy rhythm for Oliver, and he knew that if he wanted to come, he needed to change things up a little bit. He didn't want to take control; he wanted Percy to be in charge, but it was hard to relinquish all control. He wasn't used to it. Oliver rotated his hips slightly, trying to get Percy in at a better angle. He wanted to follow his own request from earlier, to keep his eyes open while Percy fucked him, but he couldn't. He didn't want to look; he just wanted to feel.

Percy reached down and grabbed Oliver's left nipple and rubbed it roughly, hoping to elicit a positive response from the other man. He wanted to hear Oliver moan. He wanted to make Oliver come, and he wanted Oliver to groan his name as he came. "Fuck, Oliver," he moaned. "You're so tight; you're making my cock feel so good. I want to keep fucking you until we both come. I love this feeling, my cock being squeezed by your hole. This is bloody amazing."

Oliver elicited a loud **"gah"** when Percy grabbed his nipple. Oliver did not moan or sigh during sex. He made manly, low, guttural noises, like loud grunts or explicit swearing. He wasn't used to being a bottom; he almost always topped. He felt almost vulnerable the way he was right now, but he found that he didn't mind very much. "Fuck me, then, fuck, Percy. Fuck me, use me, just do whatever you fucking want. Your cock is fucking amazing."

Percy groaned, pushing into Oliver's hole even harder than before. "Oh, I'll fuck you," he moaned loudly. "I'll fuck you like you've never been fucked before, Oliver Wood." He stopped speaking to continue thrusting into Oliver, a little harder this time, trying to change his angle so as to hit Oliver's prostate. Wanna make him feel as good as he made me feel, he thought, groaning. "Gonna make you come," he moaned. "Wanna make you come all over me. Gonna fuck you until you can't move."

Oliver almost screamed "FUCK!" but he held himself back and instead let out a less manly **"gaaahhhh..."** Were he coherent enough to form sentences, he might tell Percy that he didn't really have much to top, since Oliver was rarely the one getting fucked; he was always the one fucking. Oliver was pushing back, trying to counter Percy's thrusts, wanting Percy to go deeper and deeper into him, allowing him to split him in two. Maybe he wanted to be split in two, if this was how good it would feel.

"Open your eyes," Percy commanded. "I want you to—uh—look at me--gahhh. I want to—oh fuck—see the expression on your face when you—oh Merlin—come." He grabbed Oliver's nipple in his free hand and pinched it roughly, wanting to drive Oliver over the edge with as much stimulation as possible. "I want to make you come," Percy grunted. "I want you to come all over me...oh fuck..." He rotated his hips slightly, trying to hit Oliver's prostate again. He kept hitting a slightly spongier spot, and he thought he was succeeding.

"Oh Christ, Percy," Oliver moaned. He just couldn't open his eyes. His body wouldn't allow him to do it. He wanted to, he wanted to look at the man who was giving him the most amazing fuck of his life, but he couldn't. "Fuck, Perce..." He felt his orgasm coming, and though he tried very hard to open his eyes, they squeezed even more tightly closed. His orgasm came in a wave of groans and "fuck"s, and he felt his body tensing. He came all over himself, Percy, and his sheets. It felt like one of the strongest orgasms he'd ever had, and he loved it.

Percy's orgasm had been a long time coming, but he had wanted to wait until Oliver came, just to make it better for Oliver. When he felt Oliver's hole squeezing his erection, he came loudly. "Fuck, Oliver," he moaned. "You're—oh fuck—so fucking tight... you feel--aagghhh--so amazing." He felt his come draining from his erection in large spurts, filling up the condom. He continued to thrust until he didn't think he could anymore, and then he slowed down, suddenly feeling exhausted. It was a good exhausted, though, a kind of exhausted he'd never felt, but one he wanted to feel again.

"No," Oliver said, taking in a ragged breath, "you're fucking amazing." He grinned at Percy and turned so they were face to face. He pressed a light kiss to the other man's lips and ran his fingers through Percy's slightly curly, very sweaty hair, which had gone very wild during their escapades. He didn't mind; in fact, he thought Percy looked even sexier with his hair going every which way, not so meticulously combed and styled. Percy's flushed face made Oliver grin. "So," he said, almost conversationally, "would you say you were relaxed now?"

When Percy felt Oliver move, he pulled out, and pulled the used condom off and threw it in the trash. He re-situated himself and wrapped his arms around Oliver, pulling him closer. He looked into Oliver's eyes and smiled. "Yes," he said, tracing Oliver's spine down his back. "I'd say I was much more relaxed now. If this is how I get to relax, I might as well get more stressed out more often." Percy winked at Oliver and kissed the tip of his nose lightly.

"Until I get bored with you," Oliver said lightly, not really knowing how he meant the remark. It was very open-ended, which was the way he had expected it to be, and wanted it to be as well. Oliver didn't make any commitments. It just wasn't the way he was. Usually, he fucked and left, and never saw the person again. However, for some reason, deep within him, he felt a strange pull to see Percy again. It was odd; he and Percy had rarely spoken while in school and now Oliver wanted—no he didn't, not really, only to fuck—to see him again. To fuck him again. Oliver didn't promise anything. Instead of elaborating on his sentence, he leaned up and kissed Percy gently.

Percy didn't know what that remark meant. It almost worried him, but really, everything worried him. He wasn't going to break the mood by asking. _Not now,_ he thought. _Maybe a bit later. If there **is** a later._ "Assuming I don't get bored with you first," Percy retorted jokingly, kissing Oliver back willingly. That was a good enough response, wasn't it? He didn't think he could ever get bored with Oliver, though; he hoped Oliver wouldn't get bored with him, either.

"Good answer," said Oliver, smirking a bit and running his fingers through Percy's hair once more. It almost felt good to stay with someone for once. It felt...safe. It was unusual. He kissed Percy again and then slid away, standing up. Merlin, but he was sticky...but it didn't matter. He felt amazing. Completely sated and relaxed. "What do you say to a shower...and then we see where the rest of the evening takes us?" Oliver said, a hint of mischief in his eyes. If he was estimating right, however, the evening was well close to being over, but he wanted to take a shower before he cleaned his sheets and got into bed...with Percy...but only to sleep...right?

Percy nodded and got off the bed, too. He didn't think he had ever felt this good in his entire life. This was amazing, and he didn't ever want it to end. He grinned at Oliver and gave him a slight wink, saying, "Sounds good to me." He stretched up as far as he could go, yawning as he did so. He, too, could use a bit of a shower. He was a bit sticky, though he didn't mind it very much. Oliver's back massage had relaxed his shoulders and released a fair amount of tension in his body, and a shower could only be more relaxing, couldn't it?


	8. A Very Good Night Indeed

“Give me a minute,” Oliver said, pushing Percy gently back onto the sticky sheets. “Not sure if the loo is presentable.” He grinned cheekily and walked out of the bedroom.

Percy nodded, enjoying the view as Oliver walked away. He wondered what might come next. Would it just be a simple ‘rinse the sticky away’ shower, or would it be more of the same? As before, he’d never showered with anyone in his life. Not even as a small child. Percy had always been a very private person, and had insisted on taking baths and showers alone – with the door locked – as a child. The prefects’ bathroom had been a dream come true for him. A bathroom that he hadn’t had to share with six siblings had been a wonderful gift. No more of the twins’ joke supplies, Ron’s toothpaste stains in the sink, Ginny’s hair everywhere…

“All right!” a voice called from down the hall, and that snapped Percy back to reality. “Come on in!”

Percy stood and stretched again, pushing the sheets back onto the bed. He felt a slight shiver of nervousness. _Don’t be nervous,_ he told himself. _You’ve just been intimate with Oliver! Why are you nervous?_ Maybe because he was never naked with anyone, not even really himself. Maybe because he hadn’t been intimate with anyone until Oliver. Maybe because he felt vulnerable, all of his flaws out on display for Oliver to see and critique. Maybe because he was self-conscious, as always – of course he couldn’t measure up to Oliver Wood, physically or otherwise. He had never been in the same league as Oliver; he was never attractive, popular, gregarious, anything that would bring him into the same social circle as the man waiting for him in the bathroom. So what made Oliver choose him tonight? Percy didn’t know, and that was why he was nervous. 

When he entered the bathroom, he saw a room entirely different from his own bathroom. The walls were not quite white, but not quite beige. What was that colour called? Eggshell? Percy didn’t know. There was a single burgundy towel hanging on a rack across from the door, and at least two more were in a pile on the floor. The counters were littered with empty or partially empty bottles – Percy saw toothpaste, deodorant, moisturiser, face wash, cologne, and hand cream. _If Oliver had tidied up, what did it look like before?_ Percy wondered. The shower curtain was half-open and the shower was running, causing the mirror to steam up. Inside the shower, Percy saw a crooked, slightly rusty shower caddy overflowing with various bottles – some shampoo, some shower gel, some unidentifiable substances – and there were more likely empty bottles in the corners of the shower. Percy raised his eyebrow. **This** _is clean?_ he thought. 

Oliver grinned. “Yeah, I know,” he said. “Bit disorderly.” He nudged Percy toward the shower. “You’re all sticky. Hop under the water and I’ll clean you off.” He looked at Percy hungrily. Even though they had just gone four rounds, Oliver was already ready for several more. The redhead‘s freckled body was irresistible. Oliver wanted to ravish Percy over and over, until neither of them could speak. “Go on,” he urged, seeing Percy hesitate. “The water’s warm, promise.”

Percy stuck his hand under the shower. Yes, the water was warm. Why, then, was he hesitating? He had no idea. _Hurry up,_ he told himself. _No use wasting water; just get in and rinse off._ He followed Oliver’s command and got under the water. The warm shower felt good. Percy hadn’t realised how much of a mess he actually was until he was standing in the steamy shower. He closed his eyes, allowing the water to run over his face and down his body.

“Budge up,” Oliver said, gently pushing Percy to the side and stepping in with him, pulling the shower curtain closed after him. _Another first_ , thought Oliver. Not only for Percy, but also for him. His … guests never stayed long enough to even see his bathroom, much less shower in it. He could count on one hand how many times he had had people sleep over in his flat. _Will this be different?_ he wondered. Did he really want it to be? He wasn’t sure yet. _That’s a question for another time,_ he told himself. _Don’t worry about it now; focus on the gorgeous man in front of you._

“Let’s clean you off,” Oliver said in a seductive voice, his eyes roaming over Percy’s body. He couldn’t get over how attractive the other man was. Oliver had never expected Percy to be so captivating; of course, Percy didn’t have the confidence that Oliver did, which probably contributed to his misconceptions. Oliver squeezed some shower gel into his hand – ginger mint, his favourite – and rubbed his hands together to lather it up. Once the gel had lathered enough, Oliver began to rub his hands over Percy’s slender frame. The slightly smaller man shivered under his touch.

“Relax,” Oliver teased, tickling Percy’s sides and planting a kiss on his lips. 

“How can I relax when you’re standing naked in front of me?” Percy asked softly. _Shit,_ he thought. _That was supposed to be in my head!_

“Well,” Oliver began, “isn’t that why I invited you over?” He grinned. “Turn around,” he commanded, manoeuvring Percy so he was facing away from Oliver. He started to soap Percy’s shoulders and back, adding in a gentle massage as he washed. He felt goosebumps begin to rise on Percy’s flesh, and there was a twitch between his legs. His heart was beating faster now, and he could feel Percy’s breathing getting shallower. 

“Do you like that?” Oliver whispered in Percy’s ear. “Does that feel good?”

Percy shuddered. “Yes,” he breathed. “Don’t stop touching me.” _Ever,_ he added mentally. This time he was 99% sure that was in his head. He leaned back into Oliver’s touch, not surprised to feel en erection beginning to take shape. His own erection was growing in front of him, just from Oliver’s light touches. _How many erections will I get tonight?_ he wondered. He wasn’t complaining; no, this was the best night of his life. He was amazed that he, Percy I Weasley, was the focus of Oliver Wood’s ministrations. It had been his chief fantasy for as long as he could remember, and now it was reality. 

Oliver smiled. It pleased him that he could provide Percy with such pleasure. It also surprised him, at least a little bit, that it made him feel so good when he made Percy feel good. Since when did that matter to him? He slid his hands down Percy’s sides, lathering as he went, making sure to wash off the sticky ejaculate and sweat. He lingered on Percy’s hips, lightly resting his hands on the prominent hipbones. Percy was a pleasing mix of bony and muscled, Oliver thought. Not too scrawny, but also not too brawny. He allowed his right hand to slide forward and graze Percy’s hardening cock, and he heard a gasp. 

_Good,_ Oliver thought. _He’s in the same state I am – almost permanently, it seems._ Oliver smiled to himself. This really was turning out to be a satisfying evening. 

Percy didn’t want to wait any more and he turned around to face Oliver. He looked in his partner’s eyes, trying to read his mind. What was going on behind those deep blue eyes? What could he be thinking? _Now is not the time to be psycho-analysing him,_ he chided himself. _Just enjoy the moment._

Trying to take his own advice, Percy leaned in and kissed Oliver deeply. No matter how many times he had kissed the other man that evening, he still couldn’t get tired of it. His lips were soft; his tongue gentle and rough at the same time. If Percy died tonight, he would die a happy man. But he hoped that wouldn't happen and instead would get to spend many more nights—and days—like this with Oliver. 

Oliver kissed Percy back ferociously, needing to taste the other man, wanting to feel him, touch him, have him again and again. He was hungry for Percy’s touch, his kiss, his hands, and, more than anything else, his cock. Merlin, it had felt good to be fucked by him. He pulled Percy as close to him as physically possible, feeling their cocks rub together and shuddering in pleasure. “Oh, fuck, Percy,” he groaned through the kiss. “I need you...” _Fuck!_ he thought. _I **want** him, I don’t **need** him...do I? Fuck it, I don’t care as long as he fucks me again._ Where was this confidence coming from? Percy wondered. He reached around Oliver for the shower gel and squeezed a small bit into his hands, lathering up quickly. He started with Oliver’s shoulders, using light touches designed to drive Oliver wild. Percy slid his hands down Oliver’s back, his fingers tracing small circles on the soft skin. The soapy water ran off Oliver’s back slowly, rinsing away their combined juices. Percy allowed his hands to move to Oliver’s chest and lightly pinched the other man’s nipple.

“How do you like that?” Percy asked suggestively.

Oliver’s cock twitched at the pinch. Gods, but it was hard not to thrust into Percy’s groin. His cock was so hard and needed release. “Yes...” he managed to croak, knowing it wasn’t a proper answer to the question but not really caring. Sentences were not something he could form at the moment. He was lucky he could get words out. He nudged closer to Percy, just to feel their cocks rub together again. The sensation sent electric shocks down his spine, and he almost cried out, it felt so good.

“No,” Percy ordered him. “Not yet. If you do that again, I won’t fuck you again...” _Tonight,_ he added mentally. Could he keep that promise? No, he couldn’t. He’d had a taste of Oliver, and now he didn’t want to give it up. 

Where had this Percy been all Oliver’s life, Oliver wondered. _That doesn’t matter,_ he thought, _as long as he’s here now._ “I’ll be good,” he promised, and took a step back. He wanted Percy to fuck him again; he wanted to feel Percy’s cock inside him, to be filled by the freckled man over and over, to have Percy take him however he wanted. 

“Good,” Percy replied. “Because I want to fuck you, and I would be disappointed if you were … **_bad._** ” He laid extra emphasis on **bad** , raising an eyebrow at Oliver as he said it. Where was he getting this confidence from? Was he siphoning it from Oliver somehow? Percy didn’t know, and honestly, he didn’t care. He was taking charge, and it seemed that Oliver liked it. That was what mattered to him – Oliver’s pleasure. His own pleasure was secondary. 

Percy lazily washed Oliver’s torso, taking what seemed to be an eternity, drawing out every sensation. His fingers traced the prominent muscles of Oliver’s abdomen: years of Quidditch training had made Oliver exquisitely muscled, and Percy wanted to – no, had to—explore every hardened inch. 

Gods, this was torture – but delicious, sublime torture. Oliver had to focus on keeping himself still; otherwise, he would be pressing his agonisingly hard cock against Percy’s, and he would lose his chance to be fucked again. _And I can’t have that,_ he thought desperately. _I need it...now._

“C’mon, Perce,” Oliver groaned. “That’s enough!”

Percy grinned. He was pleased that he was getting to Oliver. He guessed that Oliver was right, that it was – almost – enough. He kissed Oliver bruisingly, being sure to pull out the other man’s lower lip with his teeth, causing Oliver to gasp.

“Ohhh...yes...” Oliver moaned.

“Are you ready?” Percy asked suggestively.

“Do you...have to...ask?” Oliver said breathlessly, daring to lean against Percy. Fuck it, he needed this. And if Percy didn’t give it to him now, he was going to take it. 

Percy ignored the thrust of Oliver’s erection on his own – something he found difficult, but he had to control himself. After all, he was taking charge of the situation, and losing himself just wouldn’t do. Instead, he placed his hands on the other man’s muscular shoulders. He could never get tired of touching Oliver – not now that he’d had a taste. I want to do this forever, he thought. I never want to stop.

“Well, let’s towel you off, then,” Percy said lightly, trying to keep the arousal out of his voice. He wasn’t sure if he was succeeding, but right now that wasn’t at the forefront of his mind. “Are any of these towels remotely clean?” he joked.

Oliver couldn’t think straight to answer the question. The only thing he could do was point to the towel rack. It wasn’t fresh-off-the-line clean, but it would do.

Percy reached behind Oliver to turn off the faucet and then stepped out of the shower. He shivered. It was chilly. He grabbed the lone towel from the rack and quickly dried himself off before beckoning to Oliver, who obediently got out of the shower and came to him. “Good boy,” Percy said in what he hoped was a sultry voice. He had never had to use such a tone, and trying it on for the first time, it sounded silly to him. “You’re going to be rewarded for being so good. Just be patient for a few more minutes and you’ll get your present.”

Patient? Not in a million years. At most, Oliver could wait five minutes. “I...need you...” he panted.

“And you’ll get me," Percy answered, slowly, torturously rubbing Oliver dry. He made sure to linger longer than was necessary on Oliver’s groin, just resting the towel there for a moment. He watched as Oliver’s face contorted into a grimace. _That’s probably enough,_ he told himself.

“The sheets are dirty,” Percy said suddenly, just remembering why they had been in the shower.

“Don’t care,” breathed Oliver. “Doesn’t...matter...”

Percy grinned. _Okay,_ he thought. _I’ll get to fuck him sooner. Better for both of us._ He looked down at Oliver’s groin. _Especially him._ Oliver’s cock was erect, standing perpendicular to his body. The head shimmered with pre-come, that ambrosial fluid that Percy longed to taste. 

Percy grabbed Oliver’s right hand and led him back to the bedroom. _Where was this confidence coming from?_ he wondered again. _Wherever it’s from, I’m enjoying it._ He pushed Oliver backwards onto the large bed and knelt above him, his stomach brushing the head of Oliver’s erection. Without warning, Percy planted a passionate kiss on Oliver’s parted lips, making the other man shiver with anticipation. Their tongues met, doing an extended erotic dance in Oliver’s mouth.

“Now...please...” pleaded Oliver. He wasn’t usually one to beg – in fact, he never begged; he always made his partners beg – but Percy had tormented him, exquisitely, for what seemed like an eternity. He just couldn’t wait any longer. He felt like he was going to explode at any second, and he knew that the moment Percy entered him, he would lose all control.

“Condom?” Percy asked. Oliver nodded, and pointed toward the nightstand. “Take one,” he said with great difficulty. He couldn’t – no, didn’t want to – wait any longer, but until he knew Percy was clean, they had to use condoms.

 _Wait,_ he thought. _That means...that means I’ve made up my mind. I want more than just one night with him._ Somehow, somewhere deep in his mind, he had known this, but now it was clear. He didn’t just _want_ it, he _**needed**_ it. 

Percy reached into the nightstand and pulled out one of the strange condoms. He didn’t know if he would ever get used to them. _Maybe it won’t be necessary,_ an annoying part of his brain nagged. There was the insecure Percy; the one who questioned his every move, who didn’t believe he deserved anything he got. _Shut up,_ he told himself firmly. _Focus on Oliver. That can be dealt with later._

He rolled the condom down over his erection, still not believing he was in bed with Oliver Wood. That he had sucked off Oliver Wood, that he had fucked him and been fucked by him, and that he was about to fuck him again. He hadn’t expected something so fantastic when he stepped into that dingy Muggle pub hours ago. His terrible week seemed a lifetime ago. His old life, that of straitlaced Percy Weasley, seemed miles away. He was thrilled – ecstatic – that he had run into Oliver tonight.

Before entering Oliver, Percy squeezed a Knut-sized portion of lube onto the head of his cock and slowly, sensually, rubbed it up and down the shaft. Stroking his erection increased his sense of urgency – he needed to fuck Oliver, and he needed to do it now. He looked down at the other man. Oliver’s lips were still parted and his cheeks were flushed. Percy ran his fingers down Oliver’s chest, circling each of his nipples just once.

“Get on with it,” Oliver moaned. He thought he would die if he had to wait any longer. Every touch from Percy sent electric shocks through his body. If this was what he could have with Percy, he never wanted to let the redhead go.

Percy looked at Oliver through half-closed eyes. “Get on with it?” he asked. “Well, you’ve been such a good boy… and so patient...so I guess I can fuck you silly.” With that he pushed his cock into Oliver’s asshole, reveling in the exquisite tightness of Oliver’s sphincter. He reached down and grabbed Oliver’s hips for balance. “You like that?” he sighed. “You like being fucked in the ass? You feel so fucking good...”

That kind of language would never cease to surprise Oliver. He hadn’t thought Percy had it in him to be so vulgar, and he loved it. He didn’t think he could get more aroused, but every time Percy opened his mouth, it seemed he got even harder. He had wanted to make this the best night of Percy’s life, and it was turning out to be the best night of his own life, thanks to Percy. How could this have happened? Oliver wondered. He was supposed to be the best – but being attended to by Percy was fine by him. As long as he got release – and SOON.

“Fuck me, fuck me silly, do what you want to me,” Oliver groaned.

“Oh, I’m gonna fuck you,” Percy replied seductively. “I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t walk. And when I’m done, I’m gonna make you beg for more.”

Oliver shuddered. Gods, this side of Percy was hot. Why hadn’t he paid attention to Percy before? He could have had this for years. _Doesn’t matter,_ he thought. _Have it...him...now. That’s all that counts._

“I can’t...last...much longer...” Oliver moaned.

Just what Percy wanted to hear. He adjusted his position in an attempt to reach Oliver’s prostate, to push him over the edge to an earth-shattering climax – to make him remember this night, even if it never happened again.

There it was, that nagging voice again. Percy pushed it away as he thrust, feeling the tip of his cock nudge Oliver’s prostate. _Perfect,_ he thought. He took his right hand off Oliver’s hip and wrapped it around Oliver’s erection. This should do it. Percy smiled. He began a slow, steady stroke of Oliver’s cock, all the while still pounding away at his hole. “How about you help me with this?” he asked, taking one of Oliver’s hands and placing it on top of his own, allowing the other man to guide his touches.

This was heaven. Oliver never wanted it to end, but he knew it would, any second. He tried to warn Percy with an urgent grunt, but Percy either didn’t notice or didn’t care. A moment later, Oliver lost all control and went over the edge into the throes of a toe-curling orgasm.

“Oh fuck, Percy,” Oliver choked out, his orgasm causing his whole body to spasm, grasping Percy’s cock tightly. Merlin, that felt – and looked – good. Percy could probably come just from watching Oliver’s orgasm. But feeling his climactic spasms squeeze his erection was even better. Not a minute later, waves of pleasure washed over Percy and he was lost in his own orgasm. He forced his eyes open so he could see his partner as he came. This, his third orgasm of the night, was probably his most intense – ever. He never wanted the sensations to stop.

Like all good things, however, it came to an end. When Percy was sure he wasn’t coming any more, he pulled out and removed the messy condom, throwing it in the bedside trash can. He realised he was absolutely exhausted and collapsed on top of Oliver, breathing heavily.

“Fuck,” Oliver said. “Where did you learn how to do that?”

“From you,” Percy answered with a grin.

Oliver furrowed his brow. He knew Percy was smart, but to make him come three times in one night? 

His confusion must have been visible, because Percy laughed and said, “I’m a quick study. How else do you think I got all those N.E.W.Ts?”

Oliver smiled. “Should’ve expected that,” he said. “Smart guy like you.” He kissed the top of Percy’s head and ruffled his fine ginger hair. “I’m exhausted,” he announced. “And sticky as fuck. How about you shower and I change the sheets?” Had he really just invited Percy to stay the night? It seemed like it...and Oliver didn’t want to take back the offer.

“Sounds good,” Percy answered, trying to keep the anxiety out of his voice. He could be confident when he was fucking Oliver, but the rest of the time, he was a nervous wreck. And had Oliver just implied that he should stay over? He didn’t want to jump to conclusions; that was a good way for him to be disappointed.

***

While Percy was in the shower, Oliver removed the soiled sheets from the king-sized bed. What in the world had possessed him to ask Percy to stay over? he wondered. Had he somehow changed in the last – he looked at the clock – six hours? He didn’t think so, but his behaviour certainly was unusual. _Just see where the night takes you,_ he ordered himself. _It’s not as if he’s your boyfriend or anything…_

Boyfriend. For once in his life, that word didn’t fill him with dread.

He changed the sheets to his only other clean set – light blue stripes. _There,_ he thought. _Perfect for...sleeping._

Percy took a short shower, soaping and rinsing himself quickly. _This bathroom is disgusting,_ he thought. _If this becomes a...regular thing, Oliver will have to tidy up his toilet. Or we’ll have to go to mine…_

After he toweled himself off, he called Oliver into the bathroom. “Your turn,” he shouted. There was no answer. He walked into the bedroom, towel around his waist, to find Oliver fast asleep, lying diagonally across the bed. Percy smiled. He dropped his towel and climbed into bed next to Oliver, nudging him over. He closed his eyes. His last thought as he drifted off to sleep was _this has turned out to be a very good night indeed._


	9. Really really?

Oliver awoke the next morning with an unfamiliar arm draped across his chest. The events of the previous night started coming back to him slowly, and then the arm on his chest made sense. Percy, right. Met at that shitty Muggle pub...stressed...hopefully he was more relaxed now.

Percy stirred next to him. “You awake?” Oliver asked.

“Mmm?”

“You awake?”

“Now I am,” Percy replied, “no thanks to you.” He smiled.

“Oops,” Oliver said. “Thought you were already awake.” He made an apologetic face. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Percy said with a grin.

“You feeling more relaxed now?’ Oliver asked with a wink, pulling Percy close.

Percy allowed himself to be moved, and nestled up against Oliver’s muscular chest. This felt good. Right. _The way things should be,_ he thought. “Much more,” he answered, “thanks to you – again.”

“Good. That was my intent,” said Oliver before falling silent. Where did he want this to lead? Did he want it to lead anywhere at all? Should it just be a one-night stand? Oliver dismissed that last question. _It was much too good for that,_ he thought. _I can’t let this go just yet._

Little did Oliver know, Percy was having similar thoughts. His nerves were attacking him. Why in the world would someone like Oliver be interested in him? Why had Oliver wanted to take him home in the first place? Was this all a cruel joke? _That can’t be the case,_ he thought. _We’re adults...adults don’t do that to each other._ Regardless, Percy was anxious. What was going to come of this encounter? Should he ask?

“So...” they both began in unison.

“You first,” Percy said quickly.

“Okay,” Oliver said. “So. Are you hungry? There’s a decent cafe round the corner. I’m afraid I’m not much of a cook, and I don’t have any food in the house.” Again, he looked apologetic. It was adorable, Percy thought.

“I could eat,” Percy admitted.

“Your turn,” Oliver said. “What were you going to say?”

Percy was embarrassed now. He had thought that Oliver would have brought up the issue, since he was more forthright, but he hadn’t. And Percy didn’t want to. It didn’t seem to be on Oliver’s mind, and he didn’t want to dampen the mood. “Oh, it was nothing,” Percy lied badly. He had never been a good liar – that had always been Fred and George’s specialty. 

Oliver raised an eyebrow but decided not to press the issue. Percy was skittish, and Oliver didn’t want to scare off the best fuck he had had in years, if not in his life.

“How about we clean up and go round to the cafe?” Oliver suggested. “They do a great fry-up.”

Percy nodded. “Sounds good. You take the first shower – you’re filthy!” He made a face for a second and then laughed.

“You didn’t seem to mind how filthy I was last night,” said Oliver suggestively. Did he really want to start this again? He had Quidditch practise at 12, and it was already 10.

“Not again,” Percy groaned. “I’m exhausted!” He feigned irritation, but internally he was jumping for joy. _He wants me again!_ he thought. It wasn’t just a one-off! “Don’t you think with...” - here he reached down to Oliver’s groin - “...anything else?”

This elicited a sharp gasp. “Bloody hell, Percy,” Oliver said. “Don’t start something you’re not going to finish.”

“Later, then,” Percy promised, a gleam in his eye. Oliver liked that mischievous glint – it could only mean good things for him. It only had so far.

“Hurry along,” Percy urged. “I’m getting hungry.”

***

Their breakfast was relatively uneventful. Oliver had been right – the cafe did do a great fry-up. Percy felt awkward looking Oliver in the eyes, so instead he stared at his empty plate. The toast crumbs were fascinating. 

“Out with it, Percy,” Oliver commanded. “What’s the problem?”

“Just...” Percy stuttered. “It’s just...” _Just what?_ he asked himself. _How are you going to tell him that you’re full of confidence when you’re fucking him, but you turn into a nervous wreck the moment you’re clothed? Or that last night was probably the best night of your life, and you never want to let him go without making him run far away?_

“Just what?”

Percy drew in a deep breath, trying to relax. It didn’t work. His lungs constricted and he felt like he might pass out at any minute. This wasn’t going to work. “I can’t,” he said. “I’m sorry.” He stood up, pushed his chair in, and hurried out of the cafe, leaving a perplexed Oliver to pay for their food.

***

Percy rounded the corner and, after making sure no one was around, Disapparated. He arrived at his flat seconds later, extremely disappointed in himself. 

_You’re an idiot,_ he thought bitterly. _You probably ruined any chance you may have had to ever see him again. Well done indeed._ In an attempt to take his mind off his sheer idiocy, Percy pulled a book off his shelf, but found he couldn’t concentrate. He decided instead to take a walk. _Maybe that will help me clear my head,_ he thought.

***

After Percy had left the cafe, Oliver was extremely confused. What had he been about to say? It could have gone one of two ways, Oliver guessed. Either Percy was going to tell him he never wanted to see him again, or he would profess his undying love for Oliver. Oliver thought the first was unlikely, and rolled his eyes at the thought of the latter. He wasn’t really one for commitment – never had been – but as he mulled over the idea of seeing Percy again, he found that the thought of seconds didn’t repel him like it usually did.

Oliver finished his tea and checked the time. 11:30. **_Fuck!_** He paid for both breakfasts and left the cafe before Disapparating to Quidditch practise.

***

Practise was atrocious. First, Oliver was late getting onto the pitch, so he was shouted at by the captain. Since he was late, he missed part of warmups. When he finally settled in front of the goalposts, he was so distracted that he let in multiple extremely easy goals. That earned him extra shouting.

“Pull your head out of your arse, Wood!” he heard from across the pitch. Oliver’s cheeks reddened. His mind was definitely somewhere else, but not up his arse – it was on Percy and **his arse.** _And what he didn’t – couldn’t? Wouldn’t? - say this morning,_ Oliver thought. _I’ll have to … coerce him._ He started formulating what he thought was a cunning plan.

***

When practise had ended, instead of hanging around and chatting to his teammates like he usually did, Oliver went straight home. He showered – _alone, unfortunately,_ he thought – and properly tidied his bathroom, removing the empty bottles and dirty towels. _There,_ he thought. _Good enough for government._ That made him laugh – technically, Percy was government, as he worked for the Ministry.

 _But how will I get him over here?_ Oliver thought suddenly. _I can send him an owl...but who knows if he’ll come? If only I knew where he lived._ Too bad Oliver hadn’t asked about Percy’s flat. Then he could have Apparated and surprised him. _Oh well,_ Oliver thought, a bit disappointed. _I guess I’ll just have to chance it with the owl._

He jotted a quick note to Percy, asking him to come over that night at 7:30. Oliver would be ready – the bathroom was tidy, and he might even attempt to cook. Maybe. Or maybe he would just get takeaway – no point in giving both of them food poisoning. Oliver sent the owl off and headed out to pick up some takeaway.

***

Percy returned from his walk, not feeling much better. If anything, he was more confused. When he reached his front door, there was an envelope addressed to him in an unfamiliar hand.

**_Mr Percy Weasley  
London, England_ **

Curious, he opened the envelope before he got through the front door.

**_Hi Percy,_ **

The letter began.

**_You left very suddenly this morning. Come over around 7:30 and talk about it? -Oliver  
PS: I even cleaned the bathroom_ **

_Well,_ Percy thought, _that’s good._ He hadn’t ruined his chance by being an absolute prat. He went into his flat and decided to take a shower before going back to Oliver’s. _Might as well start the evening off clean,_ he thought with a smile. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Percy," he said out loud.

 _Maybe I should try to...practise what I wanted to say this morning,_ he thought. _Maybe if I say it out loud once or twice, it will be easier to say it out loud to Oliver. Good idea,_ he thought, mentally patting himself on the back. 

As he showered, Percy practised his speech, changing bits that he thought sounded stupid or needy. He continued practising while he toweled off and dressed, but by the time he had to leave his flat, he still wasn’t satisfied. Oh well...what he had would just have to do. 

***

There was a tentative knock at the front door, and Oliver knew that it was Percy. He took his time getting to the door, making sure he looked good and his hair was carefully tousled. Let’s find out what he was thinking this morning. Oliver opened the door and saw a very nervous-looking Percy standing there.

“I won’t bite,” Oliver joked, “unless you want me to.” A deep blush crept up the other man’s cheeks. “Come in!” Oliver motioned for Percy to go past him, and he did. “Take a seat. Get comfortable. Really comfortable,” Oliver said with a wink. “I’ll be right there.”

Percy, still a deep red, walked into the living room and settled on the couch. This time he took off his shoes, but still sat stiffly. How could he make himself really comfortable when he had something so important to say? _What’s taking him so long?_ Percy wondered irritably. He was going to lose the nerve it had taken him so long to work up.

Oliver was purposely – perhaps meanly – keeping Percy waiting. _He's so sexy when he's anxious,_ Oliver thought. _And maybe that will make him spit out what he couldn’t say this morning._

After what seemed like an eternity, Oliver sauntered into the living room and plopped down in an armchair across from Percy. “So,” he said conversationally, “what dd you want to tell me?”

“You don’t waste any time, do you?” asked Percy nervously.

“You want to see getting to the point?” Oliver teased. “We can get to another point later...after you tell me what you didn’t tell me this morning.”

So **that** was how it was going to be. Now Percy had to tell him.

“Uh...” Percy started. “Um, okay. Well...what I wanted...want to say is...” He took a huge breath, knowing that if he had to stop in the middle of his sentence to breathe, he probably wouldn’t be able to continue.

“What?”

“...uh...lastnghtwasthebestnightofmylifethankstoyouandineverwantedittoendiwanttoseeyoueverydaypleasedontbescaredanddontgoaway,” Percy said quickly, not looking at Oliver. His face felt like it was on fire. He could hardly breathe, and his heart was beating so fast, he thought it might burst out of his chest. That hadn’t come out the way he had practised it at all. He had sounded calm, relaxed, and measured when he had practised. He had just made an arse of himself. Oliver was sitting silently across from him, presumably in absolute shock and horror over what Percy had just said. Percy was too afraid to look up at him to find out.

After what was probably a millennium, Oliver spoke. “Hey,” he said quietly. “Look at me.” He waited until Percy looked up. “Do you think I would have asked you here if I didn’t want to see you again?” Was that enough of a consolation? It didn’t look like it. Percy still looked miserable, so Oliver stood up and crossed the room to settle on the couch beside the other man. 

“Listen,” he said. “I’m crap with stuff like this. I’ve never...” _Never what?_ he thought. _Never had someone over again? Never shared feelings with someone?_ “...never told anyone how I feel about them before.” _But you’re different,_ he thought. “But...” But what? How could he verbalise this? “But I feel...similar...” He wouldn’t go so far as to say the same, even though he probably did feel exactly the same as Percy did. The previous night had been the best night of his life – by far – and he didn’t want Percy to leave him either.

Percy looked at Oliver. Did he really mean that? His face looked honest, even nervous. He looked almost as anxious as Percy felt.

“Really?” Percy asked.

“Really,” Oliver answered.

“Really really?” Percy asked, smiling.

“Really really,” Oliver replied, rolling his eyes a little. “Now let’s eat. I’m fucking starving.”

“I thought you couldn’t cook,” Percy teased.

“I can’t,” Oliver said. “Takeaway. I planned ahead. If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s getting takeaway.”

“Oh,” Percy said with a raised eyebrow, “you’re good at much more than just getting takeaway.” With that, he kissed Oliver’s forehead and smiled. “So, where is this takeaway?”


	10. That's Good

The following few weeks were a delirious blur. Percy went to work as usual, slogged through mountains of paperwork, and dealt with snippy colleagues, but it didn’t bother him – he knew he would be seeing Oliver as soon as the day ended. He had never felt so happy before. Not when he had been made prefect or Head Boy, or even when he had gotten his job at the Ministry. All of those achievements paled in comparison to the happiness he felt now. Sometimes when he was at his desk, Percy would drift off into dreamland, daydreaming about Oliver and what could have been, if he had pulled his head from his arse sooner.

In school, they had been so different. Oliver had spent almost all of his time on the Quidditch pitch, while Percy spent his time studying or patrolling the halls, first as a prefect, then Head Boy. Percy had had to discipline – not in the way he would have liked to, mind – Oliver several times for “forgetting” curfew or breaking various school rules, almost always for Quidditch-related reasons. Once or twice it had been because he was caught fumbling in dark corners with other students in their year, regardless of house. Percy had always been jealous of the random students. He had had Penelope, of course, but now that he thought about it, theirs had been a relationship of convenience. They had both been prefects; both top students in their houses; of course it would make sense that they dated. He had tried to play the part of dutiful boyfriend, but his heart hadn’t been in it, and eventually Penelope had seen that and split up with him. He had been more relieved than anything else. Finally the charade was over. He didn’t have to pretend anymore. 

Of course, he hadn’t displayed his true feelings for anyone in the interim, especially not for Oliver. All he had done was work, work, and more work. Typical Percy. He had tried dating women again after Penelope; maybe it had just been her, but it wasn’t. It was him. There had been dalliances, albeit brief, with strangers met at the Three Broomsticks or the Hog’s Head, but nothing substantial. Just brief fumbles in the alley after a few too many drinks. 

“Weasley!” barked a loud voice, startling Percy from his daydream. It was Percy’s boss, Gideon Parkinson, the father of Pansy Parkinson. “Wake up!”

Percy sat up straight and looked toward his door. “Yes, sir?”

“Have you finished those reports yet?” 

“Not yet, sir,” Percy answered sheepishly. His daydreaming had delayed his work, and for that he was embarrassed. “Very nearly finished. I’ll have them to you within the hour.”

“Make sure that you do. I don’t pay you to daydream!” With that, his boss turned and walked purposefully out the door, slamming it in the process.

Working with renewed focus, Percy dipped his quill in his inkwell and began writing. He had been nearly finished, and he would finish the reports within twenty minutes. He would rather give his boss the reports early and impress him – especially after having been caught daydreaming – than be late.

***

Oliver’s days were filled with Quidditch, takeaway, and, of course, Percy. His three favourite things. He had thought his life couldn’t get any better: he was playing professional Quidditch, something he had always wanted to do. He had a decent flat and answered to no one. He was financially stable. But then he had run into Percy at that dive bar and his life had been turned upside down – but pleasantly. Of course, Oliver had had male lovers – not boyfriends; they hadn’t stayed around long enough to earn that title – before, but Percy was different. They had a history. _And a future,_ Oliver often thought with a smile.

He found that he was more focused at Quidditch practise. His teammates noticed and complimented his seemingly newfound concentration skills. _Thank Percy,_ he thought. His save percentage had increased by a large margin, earning him kudos from the team captain as well as a spot on the starting roster for the upcoming match. He was excited to share the news with Percy; surely he would come and support Oliver.

Oliver had never felt this way about anyone. He was treading in unfamiliar territory, and it both frightened and delighted him. He wasn’t used to having someone care for him, someone who wanted to know every detail of his day, who would take care of him without being asked. Someone he could talk to or just sit in silence with; either was perfectly comfortable. Someone he could be silly with or, preferably, intimate with. 

Tonight he was meeting Percy at Percy’s flat. Percy had promised to cook, for which Oliver was excited. He rarely ate anything but takeaway. He had asked if he could bring anything, but was told only to bring himself. That was easy. After Quidditch practise, he went home and showered in his relatively tidy bathroom – there were no more empty bottles littering the counters or the shower, and all of the towels were hung on the rack. The rest of the flat looked like a hurricane had hit: Hurricane Oliver. He hadn’t really had time for tidying; only Quidditch and Percy, and that was fine with him.

***

Percy hurried home from work at 6:30, impatient to start cooking. He was going to make manicotti; something he was quite good at, but took a long time. When he walked through his front door, he hung his jacket on the nearby hook, loosened his tie, and removed his shoes, placing them on the rack next to the door. Everything had a proper spot in Percy’s flat, and nothing was ever out of place. 

In the kitchen, he assembled the necessary ingredients. He preferred to cook without magic; he thought it was more personal that way. As he prepared the pasta to go into the oven, he looked at the clock. 7:15. Oliver would be arriving in 45 minutes. Percy had time to take a shower and brush his teeth before he arrived. Once the manicotti was in the oven, Percy waved his wand to clean the kitchen and headed to the bathroom to shower. 

His bathroom was the polar opposite of Oliver’s. The walls were blindingly white and bare. There were two light blue towels hanging on a rack attached to the shower door, folded with precision. The counters were empty of products aside from a soap dispenser on the edge of the sink. The medicine cabinet on the wall held a toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, several haircare products, and cologne. Percy was low-maintenance. He didn’t require many grooming products or much time to shower, and it showed in his bathroom. His shower was equally empty. The shower caddy, white plastic, had only a bottle of combined shampoo and conditioner, a razor, and soap. 

There was a knock at the door a little before 8:00. Percy had just finished dressing and his hair was still slightly damp. Dinner wasn’t quite ready, so Oliver would have to wait. He still had to make a salad, too. _Oliver could do that,_ he thought. _Maybe. With enough instruction._ Percy left his bedroom and walked down the hall to open the front door. There stood Oliver, looking so good that Percy could have ravished him on the spot. He was wearing a perfectly fitted sky-blue button-up shirt that showcased his broad shoulders and muscular arms and slim-fit trousers that, when he turned around, would show off his toned arse. 

Percy felt his breath catch in his throat. Merlin, Oliver looked good tonight. Did they really have to eat? Couldn’t dinner wait? 

“Cat got your tongue?” Oliver teased, leaning forward to kiss Percy lightly. “Smells amazing. I can’t wait to taste it.” _And you,_ he thought.

“It should be ready soon,” Percy said with a grin. “But we still need to make a salad. Maybe you can do that?” He raised an eyebrow as if to issue a challenge.

“As long as nothing has to actually be cooked,” Oliver said. “I’m crap with cooking. Chopping and mixing, I’m great. But cooking...” he trailed off, remembering past disasters. 

“No,” Percy laughed. “Just greens and veg.” He gestured to the kitchen with his right arm. “Come with me and we’ll get started.”

Oliver followed dutifully, taking in every detail as he followed Percy. The flat wasn’t very inviting; not many personal details at all. But Percy probably didn’t spend much time there, to be honest. _Most of his time had to be spent at work,_ Oliver thought. _It’s exactly like when we were in school: a place for everything and everything in its place._

Percy summoned the vegetables out of the fridge and set down two chopping boards. “Here,” he said to Oliver, handing him a knife. “Get started. Try not to cut off your fingers.” He smiled and started chopping tomatoes.

***

After dinner, the two were sat on the sofa with drinks – Percy a tea and Oliver a beer. 

“That was fantastic,” Oliver said. “You should cook for me more often.” He kissed Percy’s nose.

“Anytime you want,” Percy replied, returning the kiss.

“Anytime? So I could come over here at two in the morning and demand a souffle?”

“Assuming you weren’t already here,” Percy said with a wink. Since their discussion several weeks ago, Percy was feeling more confident with Oliver. He could (mostly) say what he was thinking, even when he was clothed! It was a huge step for him. “Maybe I’ll even teach you how to cook.”

“Nah,” Oliver said. “I’d rather you just cook for me. Besides, you don’t want to get food poisoning.” He made a face. He had had too many negative experiences with cooking and people who had told him to ‘just try it’. 

“That bad, hmm?” Percy joked. “Maybe it’s better I cook, then.” He set his tea on the table in front of them and leaned into Oliver’s chest. He smelled good. Percy could really get used to this, settling on the couch after dinner, just cuddling.

“Oh!” Oliver said suddenly. “I nearly forgot!” It was true – he had nearly forgotten to tell Percy his big news. He had forgotten just about everything as soon as he’d walked through the door. “I was added to the first team roster for our Quidditch match on Saturday! You’ll come, right?” He looked hopeful. 

“Of course! I’m so proud of you!” Percy said excitedly. “Where can I get tickets?”

Oliver felt foolish for a moment; he had forgotten to take care of that. But then he remembered: he could speak to the ticket office manager and put Percy on the approved guest list. “I’ll put you on the guest list; all you have to do is go to the ticket office and tell them who you are,” Oliver said with a smile. 

“Dating a professional Quidditch player certainly has its advantages,” Percy joked. “If I get to go to Quidditch matches for free, I might just keep you around.” _Of course you’ll keep him around,_ he thought. _He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you. Don’t mess this up, Percy._

“Well,” Oliver said with a smirk, “don’t think you can get in for free. You can still do something for me.” He pulled Percy close and kissed him deeply. “You know what I mean?”

“If that’s the kind of payment you demand,” Percy murmured, “take as much as you want.”

That was what Oliver wanted to hear. He had been thinking about this all day. He couldn’t get enough of Percy. His scent, his kisses, his touch – it was like a drug to Oliver. A wonderful, magical drug. While kissing Percy, he pulled the other man’s shirt free of his trousers and slid his hands up the back. His skin was soft and warm in comparison to Oliver’s cold, rough hands. 

Percy shivered. “Your hands are so cold!” he complained. He pulled away from Oliver, forcing Oliver to move his hands to Percy’s front. Percy took Oliver’s hands in his own and began rubbing them together to warm them up. “Let me help you.” He interlaced their fingers and leaned forward, kissing Oliver again. He, too, couldn’t get enough of Oliver. He felt so fortunate to have run into him, to have been able to verbalise his feelings and have them reciprocated, and especially to have Oliver sitting across from him on his couch. 

“You smell good,” Oliver said, leaning forward to kiss Percy again. “I love it.”

Percy felt his heartbeat speeding up and he let go of Oliver’s hands, instead wrapping his arms around the other man’s body. He loved the feel of Oliver’s athletic back, loved tracing the muscular map with his fingertips. The fitted shirt Oliver was wearing made it very easy to feel Oliver’s taut skin and firm muscles, but Percy wanted more. He always wanted more. 

“Come with me,” Percy commanded, standing up and offering his hand to Oliver. 

Oliver looked through half-lidded eyes at the redhead. He would do anything Percy asked him to. He took the proffered hand and stood up, allowing himself to be led through the flat. Momentarily he found himself in Percy’s bedroom, where he had never been before. It was spartan: just a bed, a dresser, and a nightstand. The windows – there were two of them – had plain white linen curtains framing them. The walls were the same stark white as the rest of the flat. 

Percy pushed Oliver backwards onto his bed. “How do you want me to pay for my ticket?” he asked in a low voice. 

Oliver shuddered in anticipation. “Surprise me,” he whispered. Whatever Percy wanted to do, Oliver was sure he would enjoy it. 

Percy smirked. _Brilliant,_ he thought. He thought about this almost constantly. He hadn’t known something could make him feel so good, or that he would want to please someone else so much. He leaned forward and kissed Oliver hungrily, tasting a combination of pasta sauce and salad dressing on his lips. He had to have him. He had to have him now, and he couldn’t wait. He kissed Oliver more ferociously, trying to communicate his desire, his wanton lust, pressing his erection against Oliver’s groin, feeling the same heat emanating from his partner. 

“Trousers,” Percy breathed. “Off. Now.” 

Authoritative Percy was one of Oliver’s favourites. He wouldn’t admit it, but he enjoyed being told what to do in erotic situations. He had never allowed himself to take direction; he had always given it. Now that he was allowing himself to relinquish control, he found that he quite enjoyed it. He complied immediately, unfastening his belt, unbuttoning and unzipping his trousers, and removing them hastily, throwing them carelessly on the floor. Percy’s hand found his erection through his pants, rubbing it roughly. Oliver gasped. The roughness of his touch was unexpected. Usually Percy was gentle and soft; taking care not to overstimulate. But this...this was...not unwanted. He pushed his hips upwards, silently begging for more. He locked eyes with Percy, imploring him to continue.

“No,” Percy said sharply. “Not until you’ve earned it.”

Oliver made a whimpering noise, disappointed. He wanted this, needed it, had to have it now. Working for it was not in his plans. He pulled Percy down and kissed him, hard, to show him how much he needed him. “Fuck me,” Oliver growled. “I don’t want to earn it; I want you to fuck me, to fill me, hurt me, make me beg for more.” 

Percy’s cock twitched hearing Oliver’s husky growl. He wanted to follow through on his order, but gods, Oliver was so sexy with his flushed cheeks, forehead beaded with sweat, buttons straining on his shirt...Percy wanted to take him at his word and fuck him until he couldn’t move. Percy unbuttoned Oliver’s shirt slowly, keeping intense eye contact as he did so. He pushed Oliver’s shirt open with the back of his hand, brushing over one of his nipples lightly. He felt Oliver’s heart racing in his chest. Percy couldn’t wait. He knew if he waited, he would come in his trousers and the night would be over too soon. 

“Nightstand,” he mumbled. Oliver reached over and opened the drawer, pulling out a packet of condoms and a bottle of lube. Percy had visited a Muggle pharmacy earlier in the week and, extremely embarrassed, purchased both of these on the assumption that Oliver would be at his flat. He waited half a second, expecting Oliver to hand them to him, and when he didn’t, Percy quirked an eyebrow at his partner. 

“Can’t believe you went out and bought these,” Oliver said thoughtfully. “Good boy.” He sat up partially and kissed Percy. “Thank you,” he added almost as an afterthought, “for humouring me.”

Percy shrugged. It didn’t matter to him. _Anything for him,_ he thought. “Can we get back to it?” he said with a smile. 

“Let me help you,” Oliver offered, reaching out to pull Percy’s shirt over his head. “You’re still entirely too clothed for my liking.” 

Percy allowed Oliver to undress him, enjoying the attention lavished upon him. He watched as Oliver tossed his shirt onto the floor, adding to the growing pile of clothing. He stood up and removed his trousers quickly, dropping them where he stood, now just in his pants. No matter how many times he had stood unclothed before Oliver (27 – he had counted), he still felt awkward. He had never felt comfortable in his own skin, and now he was on display again. A flush crept up his cheeks and he settled on the edge of the bed.

“I love it when you blush,” Oliver said in a low voice. “Feel.” He placed Percy’s hand on his groin. 

Percy flushed deeper at the compliment but didn’t say anything. It seemed that Oliver had gotten even harder – Percy would have to do something about that. Not that he was complaining, of course. He was internally celebrating. “Pants,” he said to Oliver, who obeyed immediately, removing his pants and dropping them on the clothes mountain. Percy grasped Oliver’s hard cock and began to stroke it, hearing an immediate positive reaction from Oliver. A moment later, he bent down and engulfed Oliver’s cock in his mouth, taking as much as he could without choking. Oliver let out a surprised squeak and then a low moan. This continued for several minutes, until Percy decided that Oliver was ready. He held out his hand for a condom and the bottle of lube.

“Help me?” Percy asked huskily. 

Oliver couldn’t possibly turn him down. He ripped open the condom packaging and rolled it down over Percy’s erection, teasing his lover as he did so. “Give me the lube,” Oliver ordered, and Percy complied. He squeezed out a small amount and began rubbing it up and down Percy’s cock, enjoying the sounds the other man was making. “You like that?” Oliver said with a wink. 

“You know I do,” Percy groaned. “But now...now it’s...it’s your turn.” With that, he turned to face Oliver and positioned himself between Oliver’s legs. He wasn’t going to warn Oliver before he entered him; Oliver had told him to fuck him, to hurt him, to fill him, so that was what Percy was going to do. A second later, Percy was inside Oliver. Merlin, it felt good. Every time was like the first time again. It was still unbelievable to him that he, the awkward, skinny, bespectacled Weasley, was fucking a muscular professional Quidditch player. 

“Oh!” Oliver gasped as Percy pushed inside him. He, too, was still in disbelief that he was getting fucked by Percy Weasley. But he wasn’t complaining – it was amazing every single time. 

Percy grabbed Oliver’s hips for balance and fell into an easy rhythm, locking eyes with Oliver every few minutes, feeling his heart swell with what he thought might be love. One hand migrated to Oliver’s cock, rubbing it roughly. “Fuck, you feel so good,” Percy moaned. “I love - “ _You,_ he thought, but didn’t say it. “ - fucking you,” he finished. 

“Don’t fucking stop, then,” Oliver moaned. “Make me come.” _Make me yours,_ he added silently. 

Percy rotated his hips, searching for Oliver’s prostate. He knew that as soon as he found it, Oliver wouldn’t last much longer. It took him a moment, but then he found that small spongy spot, and he hammered it over and over while wanking Oliver off. 

“Not...gonna...last much...longer,” gasped Oliver, and a few seconds later, he felt himself lost in the throes of a mind-blowing orgasm. “Fuck me, Perce, fucking come, give it to me.”

That was all Percy needed to push him over the edge. He lost control and came for what seemed like hours. His eyes rolled back in his head and his breathing was shallow. This. Was. Amazing. 

After they both came down, Percy pulled out and removed the used condom. “Gotta toss this in the bathroom trash,” he said apologetically. “Be right back.” He stood and walked quickly into the bathroom as Oliver watched him lustfully. _I can never let him go,_ Oliver thought. _He’s perfect._

A second later, Percy climbed back into his bed with Oliver and nuzzled up against his chest. “That was amazing,” he said.

“You’re amazing,” Oliver replied with a smile. “I never want to let you go.” He pulled Percy close, their sweaty bodies sticking together, neither of them minding. 

“Then don’t,” Percy whispered. “Stay with me forever.” _I love you,_ he thought. _I love you, I love you, I love you._

Oliver kissed Percy’s forehead. Should he say it? Now seemed like the right time… Fuck it, he was going to. Maybe it was the afterglow of his orgasm; maybe it was the way Percy looked, all sweaty and flushed; maybe it was really how he felt; but Oliver just couldn’t hold it in. “I...I love you, Percy,” Oliver mumbled. He blushed maroon and looked away. 

Wait. What was that? Oliver **_loved_** him? How could he be so lucky? Percy took Oliver’s head in his hands and looked at his lover. “I love you, Oliver,” he said seriously. “I always have.”

“Well then,” Oliver said happily, the tightness in his chest dissipating, “that’s good.”


	11. You're Cute When You Blush

Saturday dawned cool and bright; perfect weather for a Quidditch match. Percy woke early, a result of both his nerves (on Oliver’s behalf, of course) and excitement at seeing Oliver play with the first team. He was looking forward to the day. He arrived at the pitch 45 minutes before the match was supposed to start, and, like Oliver had told him to do, introduced himself at the ticket office. He was waved through and shown to some pretty choice seats. _Oliver had really taken care of everything,_ he thought. He was sat right near the home team’s goalposts; he would have a perfect view. He watched both teams as they warmed up and then retreated to their changing rooms to prepare for the beginning of the match. He looked at his watch. Twenty minutes. He had enough time to get himself a Butterbeer before the match started.

After he had returned to his seat, the announcer welcomed the crowd to the match and began introducing the players, starting with the Holyhead Harpies. Percy only half-listened, choosing instead to look around the pitch, taking in the grandiosity of it all. The stands were much better appointed than the ones at Hogwarts, he noticed, with plush cushions on the benches and bright flags flying from the end of every other row. The grass on the pitch was well-kept and the goalposts seemed to sparkle in the sun. But that was to be expected, it being a professional stadium instead of a school, he thought. _Don’t be an idiot, Percy._

“...and captain Gwenog Jones,” finished the announcer. “Now, onto the home team, Puddlemere United!” Loud cheers and whistles erupted from the stands.

“We begin with the Chasers: Wilda Griffiths, Lachlan Wilder, and Euan Williams.” The announcer paused for cheers.

“Next, the beaters: Evelyn Johnson and Terrence Peyton.” Another pause for cheers.

“Joining us from the reserve team as Keeper, Oliver Wood!” Percy cheered very loudly at this, certain he would lose his voice by the end of the match.

“And your Seeker and captain, Michael Robinson! Please welcome PUDDLEMERE UNITED!!” The crowd roared with excitement as the final player was announced. “Let’s have a good, clean game!” With that, the players rose into the air and settled into their positions. Percy trained his eyes on Oliver, who seemed – from Percy’s line of sight – confident. A moment later, the Quaffle was set into play and the Snitch was released. The Bludgers were flying about maniacally, trying to attack all of the players. 

The match was fast-paced; Puddlemere scored first, and then the Harpies. Puddlemere twice more, and then once again. With every save Oliver made, Percy shouted as if his life depended on it. He wondered if Oliver could hear him. Probably not, but that didn’t matter – he would still cheer as loudly as he could. He felt such an intense swell of pride and excitement for Oliver. He had wanted this for so long, to play professional Quidditch, and now he was getting to. 

For a long while, no one scored, and then it seemed that the Harpies’ Seeker had spied the Snitch. She flew about the pitch frantically, chasing the sparkling golden ball. Seconds later, she stopped in mid-air and held her hand out, opening her fist slowly. The Harpies’ fans cheered loudly. Percy felt his stomach drop. Oliver would be so disappointed. 

“And the winners of our match today are the Holyhead Harpies!” the announcer called, a bit of disappointment coming through in his voice, “by a score of 160 to 40!” 

The United fans shuffled out of the stands, defeated. Percy heard snippets of chatter from fans around him - “-should have won-” “-what was Robinson thinking?-” “-at least Wood played well-...” At that, Percy felt his heart swell. Yes, Oliver had played well. He had only let one goal through, and if the Seeker hadn’t caught the Snitch, he would have done even better. He was proud of Oliver, and he couldn’t wait to tell him so. 

***

Oliver felt like shit. All of his efforts had been for naught. They had lost – again – and they were going to get the shouting of a lifetime. He sat on a bench in the changing room and mentally prepared himself for the verbal thrashing he was about to receive, even though he was hardly at fault – he had saved nearly all of the Harpies’ shots and couldn’t have done anything about the Snitch. Instead of listening, he zoned out, thinking about Percy. He had been at the match, right? Merlin, what a first match to come to, one where they had lost. He frowned. Percy would come to more matches, wouldn’t he? Would he even want to, since they had lost so badly this time? Oliver hoped so – knowing Percy had been there supporting him had bolstered his confidence.

“THIS IS THE FIFTH MATCH IN A ROW YOU BASTARDS HAVE LOST!” raged Robinson. “WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?”

Oliver looked around the changing room. He saw a bunch of stony faces. He thought it was equally, if not more so, Robinson’s fault; he ought to have followed the Harpies’ Seeker when she had seen the Snitch, but being just a member of the reserve team, he wasn’t going to speak up.

 _You bastards?_ he thought. _Great way to promote team unity._ He wanted to roll his eyes, but knew that wouldn’t be wise.

Robinson glared at each player individually, seemingly daring them to respond. No one did. 

“Fine,” he said sharply. “6am practises from now on.” A collective groan arose from the team. “Until we can work as a unit, we’ll practise from 6am until 3pm.” He paused. “Wood, you too. You can practise with the first team as well.”

Oliver felt a mixture of excitement and dread: he was ecstatic that he had seemingly been promoted to the first team, but dreading 6am practises. He nodded at Robinson, indicating that he would be there. 

“Now go,” Robinson said angrily. “I don’t want to see any of you right now. Tomorrow morning, 6am sharp, be on the pitch. If you’re late, you’re out of the squad for the next match.”

Oliver stood and walked to his locker, where he quickly changed into his street clothes. He knew Percy was waiting for him, and Oliver didn’t want to keep him waiting any longer. He sighed. At least it was over, and he wasn’t the target of the shouting – at least not the only target. And he had been promoted, so one good thing had come from this afternoon. He stared at his feet as he walked out of the tunnel, not paying attention to where he was going.

***

Percy stood outside the fence of the pitch, waiting for Oliver to finish changing and meet him. _How long could it possibly take to change clothes?_ he wondered, slightly annoyed. He looked at his watch and then felt someone walk straight into him. “Watch it!” he said, irritated, and then turned his head to look at the offending person. It was Oliver, looking discouraged. 

Percy felt like a grade-A arse. “Sorry,” he mumbled, taking Oliver into his arms and holding him tightly. “You were brilliant today.” He meant it, too – Oliver had played like a champion. 

“We still lost,” Oliver complained. “What a match for you to come to; our fifth loss in a row.” He frowned. 

“I don’t care,” Percy said. “I care about seeing you play.” He squeezed Oliver tighter, eliciting a squeak from him. 

“Still wish we would’ve won, though,” said Oliver grumpily. 

“Hey mate, good game,” called one of his teammates. It was Terrence, one of the Beaters, walking out with Evelyn and Euan. “Well done being promoted to first team.” Terrence stopped for a minute to talk to Oliver and, presumably, Percy. Oliver pulled away from Percy and turned to face his teammates.

“Thanks, mate,” Oliver said with a smile. “Bad luck that we lost.” He paused, looking around before continuing, “but Robinson really ought to have followed their Seeker a bit more closely, huh?” He raised an eyebrow and shook his head. “But who am I to say, I’m just a reserve keeper.” Oliver forced a laugh.

Euan laughed and agreed, as did Evelyn and Terrence. “Wood, who’s this dashing man you’ve got here?” asked Evelyn with a hint of desire in her voice. She looked at Percy almost hungrily, sizing him up. Percy felt uncomfortable; he felt like an exhibit at a museum or a side of beef.

“Oh...” stammered Oliver. They hadn’t discussed this yet. He glanced over at Percy quickly, seeing the same anxiety in his eyes. Deciding to go for it and talk about it later, he said, “This is my...boyfriend, Percy.” He paused, watching Percy’s eyes light up. _Good,_ he thought. _I said the right thing._ “Percy, this is Evelyn, Euan, and Terrence.” 

They made small talk for a few minutes, and then Oliver’s teammates excused themselves. “See you tomorrow, bright and early,” Oliver called after them. 

“First team!” Percy said excitedly. “I’m so proud of you! Congratulations!” Oliver blushed. He didn’t want Percy making a fuss over him – well, he did, but he wouldn’t say it or even admit it to himself – so he brushed it off like it was nothing. He shook his head. “Only because I just let in one goal today,” he said dismissively. “And Robinson cocked the whole match up by losing the Snitch.” He rolled his eyes. 

“Don’t diminish yourself,” Percy said, sounding annoyed. “You played brilliantly. I’m so proud of my **_boyfriend._** ” He put extra emphasis on that last word, indicating that he approved of what Oliver had said to his teammates. “Come home with me and I’ll cook you dinner to celebrate. What do you want?”

“I don’t care,” Oliver said, “as long as I don’t have to cook. I’m knackered.” 

***

Back at Percy’s, Oliver showered and settled on the couch while Percy prepared spaghetti bolognese and Caesar salad. “Need any help, Perce?” Oliver called from the living room, half-asleep, hoping the answer would be negative. When it was, he closed his eyes and yawned. It had been a hell of a day, and he deserved this little rest. He had started his morning like every other match morning, at 5am with a long run to loosen up his muscles. Then, as usual, a big breakfast – typical fry-up for energy. But he had been too nervous to eat much. It had been his first time playing with the first team, so he was playing doomsday scenarios over and over in his mind, worrying about fucking things up royally. He had only managed a few slices of toast, in the end. And then there had been the match. Fortunately, he had done well – well enough, at least. He hadn’t gotten injured and he’d only let in one goal. He considered that a success for his first first-team appearance. It could only get better from here.

In the kitchen, Percy cooked absentmindedly. His thoughts were on Oliver calling him his boyfriend to his teammates, even though they hadn’t officially discussed it yet. He was absolutely chuffed that Oliver considered them to be a couple – he, of course, had overanalysed it every minute they were apart, wondering how Oliver classified their relationship and if it even was a relationship – but now he knew, and he was over the moon. Boyfriend. He rolled the word around in his mind. It felt good to have someone who cared about him. It felt especially good to have Oliver care about him and, even better, want to be with him. He would do anything to keep it that way. 

“Ollie!” Percy called “Food!” When there was no answer, Percy walked into the living room to find Oliver fast asleep on the sofa. He smiled. _He really **is** knackered,_ Percy thought. _But he has to eat._ He shook Oliver awake, saying, “Time to eat, sleepyhead.”

Oliver opened his eyes. “Urgghhh,” he groaned groggily. “Bring me food?” He looked so pathetic that Percy couldn’t help but laugh. “What’s so funny?” 

“You are,” Percy replied, kissing his forehead. “Sit up and I’ll bring you a plate.” Oliver complied grudgingly, wanting to go back to sleep but at the same time wanting to eat – he hadn’t eaten anything substantial since the previous day, and he was starving. 

“I’m hungry,” Oliver complained. “I’m tired. I’m crabby.” He knew he was being difficult, but he didn’t really care. He had had a shit afternoon, and he wanted attention. He wanted consolation; confirmation that he was, indeed, a good Quidditch player and that he did deserve his spot on the first team. He was just as insecure as Percy sometimes, though only when it came to Quidditch. It had always been his top priority, and he had always trained hard to make sure he was the best. It would be different now that he was playing with the first team; he would have to train longer and harder if he wanted to be even as good as his teammates, not to mention better.

“Here,” Percy said, “stop whinging and eat.” He handed Oliver a plate of pasta and salad and sat down beside him with his own plate. 

Oliver took his plate and silverware and took a bite. Merlin, this was good. “You’re a fantastic cook, Perce,” he said with a mouth full of pasta, making it sound more like _“Yrafntsccukpirs.”_ He took another huge bite, barely taking time to taste it before swallowing. 

“Can you repeat that without your mouth full?” Percy asked, rolling his eyes. “I didn’t understand a word you said.”

Oliver set his fork down and swallowed his third bite of pasta before he said, “You. Are. A. Fantastic. Cook, Perce”, over-enunciating every word sarcastically.

“Thank you,” Percy said with a smile. “That wasn’t that hard, was it?” He poked Oliver in the side teasingly. 

“Yes it was,” Oliver said grumpily. “You made me stop eating.”

“Merlin, you’re crabby tonight,” Percy said. “Why don’t you just finish your dinner and go home?” He didn’t really want Oliver to leave, but if he was going to be this unpleasant, there was no point in having him stay. 

Oliver immediately felt bad. Yes, he was in a terrible mood. His team had lost, they had been shouted at even though it technically wasn’t their fault, and he was exhausted. But should he be taking it out on Percy? _No,_ he thought, _it wasn’t his fault._ “Sorry,” he mumbled. “’s’not your fault I’m in a bad mood. Can I still sleep over here tonight before practise tomorrow?”

 _Did he really have to ask?_ Percy thought incredulously. Percy would give him a key if he thought it wouldn’t frighten him away. “Of course,” he said gently. “Finish eating and I’ll wash the dishes. You can go straight to bed.” He ruffled Oliver’s hair and kissed his temple. 

Oliver smiled. “Thanks,” he said, shoveling the last bite of pasta into his mouth. “I’ll just set this in the kitchen, shall I?” When Percy nodded, he stood up and took his plate to the kitchen, returning to the living room to kiss Percy goodnight. “Don’t stay up too late,” he said. “I have to be up early for practise, and I may want to wake you up.” He winked and kissed Percy passionately.

Percy flushed a deep maroon – he still hadn’t got used to Oliver’s frequent use of innuendo and it always made him blush. “You’re cute when you blush,” Oliver said with a smile. “I love it.” He paused. “And you.”

“I love you too,” Percy said. “Go to sleep, crabbypants. I’ll be in soon, after I tidy up in the kitchen.” He waved Oliver off to the bedroom, and he headed into the kitchen to begin tidying up.


	12. Take a Break

Everything was perfect for a long time. Until one day when it suddenly wasn’t.

Stress at the Ministry had been increasing steadily; the Ministry had acknowledged that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had returned, after keeping their heads in the sand for so long, which had created embarrassing situations for the Minister as well as rifts between departments. His workload had increased exponentially, and continued to do so almost daily, so much so that he hardly had time to see Oliver, which had been putting immense strain on their relationship. He had been promoted to the Minister for Magic’s office, which had also increased his stress ( _and prestige,_ Percy thought proudly) but decreased the amount of time he had for Oliver.

But his job was so important. He was doing work that directly affected the entire wizarding world. And that had to count for something – Oliver just couldn’t see it yet.

One Tuesday morning, Percy left Oliver’s flat before the sun rose. Oliver was snoring when Percy walked out the front door at 5am. _It must be nice to start the day at noon,_ Percy thought bitterly. _Go to practise for six hours, come home, wait for me to make dinner, and then go to bed._ It must be nice. He was shocked at how hateful his thoughts sounded. He didn’t really feel that way; it was just stress. He was under so much pressure from the Minister to get everything done, and to get it done perfectly in a short amount of time, that he would give his left arm to have an easier schedule. 

He arrived in his office at 5:15, hours before anyone else, as usual. He still had stacks of papers on his desk, organised in order of importance: should have done yesterday, must do today, should do today, and can wait until tomorrow. The “should have done yesterday” stack was slowly shrinking, while the other stacks were growing by the hour. It was Percy’s goal to eliminate the “should have done yesterday” stack by mid-morning and at least make a dent in the “must do today” stack. He settled in his chair and began working. 

Before he knew it, it was 11:30. He had reached the bottom of the “should have done yesterday” pile and was starving. Time for a sandwich from the canteen. Percy took the elevator to the canteen on the ground floor and stood in a rapidly-growing queue of impatient Ministry workers. He didn’t really have time to stand and wait, so he used his seniority to jump the queue and order his lunch. He was the recipient of many nasty glares, but Percy didn’t care – he had important things to do in his Very Important Job. He paid for his sandwich and took it back to his office, where he started on his “must do today” stack. 

Percy worked uninterrupted until 6pm, when an owl dropped an envelope on his desk. This was unusual. It wasn’t a typical inter-office memo, and he wasn’t expecting anything. He set his quill down and examined the envelope. It was written in a familiar hand – Oliver’s. _Uh oh,_ Percy thought guiltily. Had he promised to do something and forgot? He almost didn’t want to open it; it made him nervous. _But it could be good,_ he thought. _It might be a surprise._

With that in mind, Percy carefully opened the envelope. A small piece of paper flew out. It read:

**_Perce,_ **

**_It’s late. I know you’ve been gone since 5. I haven’t seen you properly for weeks. Come to mine – I miss you._ **

**_Love,  
Ollie_ **

The guilt returned in full force. Oliver was right; they hadn’t spent time together in weeks. Percy missed Oliver too, but his work was so important. Oliver just didn’t – couldn’t – understand. How could a Quidditch player understand how important Ministry work was? Percy decided he would finish the report he was currently working on and then go to Oliver’s.

***

Oliver had picked up takeaway on his way home from practise – chicken tikka, Percy’s favourite (but not too spicy; otherwise his eyes would water, his nose would run, and his cheeks would turn that ever-so-attractive shade of red that Oliver found so alluring, and Percy would complain that he couldn’t taste the chicken, only the spice) – and hoped that Percy would be waiting for him, though not expecting it. He hadn’t seen Percy – not really – in weeks. Percy had been much too busy at the Ministry. Oliver could almost understand, since He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had returned, but wasn’t he more important than Percy’s job? _I **should** be, at least,_ Oliver thought, annoyed that Percy wasn’t at his front door when he arrived. _I suppose I’ll just send him an owl at work, then. Maybe he’ll actually get here before 10pm tonight._

Oliver dashed off a quick note and headed to the bathroom to shower. He didn’t expect Percy to arrive right away, so he took a leisurely, relaxing shower. He wished Percy were here with him; they hadn’t been intimate in what felt like forever. Percy even went into the Ministry on weekends now, however hard Oliver tried to dissuade him. Closing his eyes, Oliver remembered the first time Percy had been here with him. He had been so nervous, and Oliver had thought it was enchanting. That, along with the absolutely amazing sex, had been one of the things that had attracted Oliver to him. His nerves, and how much he blushed, turned Oliver on more than he cared to admit. He wanted to protect Percy from anything that could hurt or upset him, and playing the role of protector aroused him.

When he finished with his shower, Percy still hadn’t arrived. Now it was 7pm, and Oliver was getting frustrated. Percy had been at work for 14 hours. Was he or Percy’s job more important? 

***

Putting the finishing touches on his report, Percy sent it to his boss’s office, rearranged his piles (the “should have done yesterday” pile had been completely eliminated, and he was quite pleased with himself), and Apparated to Oliver’s flat, where he knocked sharply on the front door. It was 8:15. Earlier than usual, he thought. Not bad for a Tuesday.

When Oliver opened the door, Percy saw that he was annoyed. This was not the best way to start what Percy thought was an early evening. 

“Thanks for gracing me with your presence,” Oliver said sarcastically as he opened the door. “The great Percy Weasley, Assistant to the Minister, never too busy to see his boyfriend.”

Percy felt stung. He had left work early to be able to see Oliver and spend time with him tonight; if this was how he was going to behave, he might as well just go home. He frowned. “I came as soon as I could,” he said. “It’s been busy. I have a lot to do. But if you’re going to act like this, I’ll just go home.” He didn’t want to, but maybe his threat would make Oliver see reason.

“I can’t have a relationship with someone I never see,” Oliver said. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them. He knew Percy would read too much into what he said; he always did. Percy would overanalyse his sentence, take it too personally, and overreact. 

Percy’s eyes widened. Was Oliver splitting up with him? Had he understood that correctly? “Are you...are you...” Percy sputtered, unable to get the words out.

“Serious?” Oliver asked. “I am serious – I want to see you more. Percy, I love you. I miss you. I can’t go this long without properly seeing you.” He gestured to the living room. “Sit down. I got takeaway.” Without another word, Oliver walked into the kitchen and pulled the food out of the fridge. He waved his wand and reheated it – by now it was stone cold, since he had waited nearly 2.5 hours for Percy to arrive. Gathering cutlery, he rejoined Percy, who was sitting rigidly on the couch.

Percy took his plate wordlessly. He didn’t eat. Instead, he mulled over what Oliver had said. _He can’t be in a relationship with someone he never sees,_ Percy repeated in his mind. _He just doesn’t understand how important my work is! Of course he wouldn’t; how could he?_ Even though Percy had tried to impress upon Oliver just how essential Percy was to the Ministry, it hadn’t seemed to get through to Oliver. How could he make his boyfriend – the man he loved, who presumably loved him as well – see that while he was important to him, his work was also important and it affected the entire wizarding world?

“Listen, Percy,” Oliver started, unsure how he would continue his sentence. _Please work normal hours? How important can your job be, when you work more hours than the fucking Minister and get paid loads less? Aren’t I more important to you than your stupid fucking job?_ He turned to face Percy and set his plate on the coffee table in front of him. “You are so important to me. You might not believe me, but you’re - “ he paused “ - more important than Quidditch. You’re the most important thing in my life. I just don’t get that same feeling from you.” He searched Percy’s face for a reaction, an answer, anything, and didn’t see one.

“While I appreciate the sentiment,” Percy began. _Uh oh, here it comes,_ thought Oliver. “I’ve tried to impress upon you the importance of my work and it seems to have failed. My job directly affects all of us, especially now that You-Know-Who has returned and is gaining power. I’m working so hard and so much to protect you.” He looked pained. “Of course a Quidditch player wouldn’t understand – your job is only to entertain.” Percy saw the crestfallen look on Oliver’s face and wished immediately that he could take his words back.

“If that’s how you feel, then maybe you should leave,” said Oliver quietly. 

Percy’s only choice now was to double down on what he had said. “Of course you can’t handle criticism. You don’t have a real job that has real demands. You don’t live in the real world, Oliver. In the real world, we have to deal with the threat of You-Know-Who, not the next match. There are real consequences to mistakes, not just letting in a goal or losing the Snitch. If I make a mistake at work, people will die. If you make a mistake, big. Fucking. Deal,” he snarled. He glared at Oliver, feeling his heart break, but unable to stop himself. “It must be nice to only work six hours a day. It must be really, really nice.”

“Is this how you want to do it, Percy?” Oliver snapped. “I wanted to try and work things out, but if you want to throw our relationship away, that’s fine with me too.” _No it’s not,_ he thought immediately. _It’s not fine at all._ “Your stupid job is more important to you than me, and that breaks my heart. If you asked me to spend more time with you, I would do it without a second thought. Apparently you’re more important to me than I am to you.” Oliver felt his chest tightening. This was not the way he had imagined the evening would go. He had imagined a relaxing meal, some cuddles on the couch, and then maybe some sex. He hadn’t planned on a blowup argument. “If you aren’t willing to compromise, then maybe we should take a break.”

A break. Percy was surprised – no, horrified. He didn’t want that at all, but he couldn’t take his words back. “Fine,” he shot back. “I didn’t even want to come tonight anyway.” _Lie._ “I’m better off without you.” _Another lie._ “I don’t want to see you again.” _Lies, lies, lies._ Before Oliver could say another word, Percy Disapparated to his flat.

As soon as Percy was gone, Oliver broke down in tears. The one person he had ever loved, really loved, didn’t want to see him again. All because he couldn’t keep his stupid mouth shut. 

***

Percy arrived at his flat seconds later, hating himself for what he had said and done. He might have thought those awful things, but he never should have said them. He loved Oliver. His heart was broken. He almost Apparated right back to Oliver’s to apologise for the horrible things he had said, to tell Oliver he loved him and wanted to be with him forever, that he would quit his job if Oliver said the word, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t go back on what he’d just said. He was too proud. 

A second later, an owl flew into the window. Percy opened it and let the animal in. It dropped an envelope on the counter and waited. It was from Oliver, Percy knew. He ripped the envelope open and read:

**_If you don’t come and get your things tonight, I’ll throw them away._ **

**_Oliver_ **

Percy had hoped it would be an apology, an attempt to mend fences, but it just made him feel worse. He didn’t want to see Oliver tonight. Not again. He couldn’t deal with seeing Oliver’s hurt face, hearing the disappointment and pain in his voice, knowing he was the cause of it. Percy scribbled a reply:

**_Throw them away if you must._ **

**_Percy_ **

Percy heaved a deep sigh and felt hot tears prick the corners of his eyes. _Well,_ he thought, trying to console himself, _at least now I’ll have more time for work._


	13. Just one word

Oliver was deeply unhappy, and it was obvious every minute of every day. He had been demoted to the reserve team; his focus had disappeared; he had started showing up late and unprepared to practises; and he had been letting in extremely easy goals. He had been on the receiving end of many verbal thrashings, but they hadn’t been effective. He was numb. He missed Percy more and more each day. He had tried to cheer himself up with one-night stands, but they had only served to make him more depressed. No one could fill the hole Percy had left in his heart. 

Percy had thrown himself further into his work. He hardly spent time at his flat; he arrived at his office at 5am most days and left between 10pm and midnight. Working was the only thing that kept his mind off Oliver. Fortunately, he had more than enough to do. But when he stopped to think, or took a break for lunch, his mind strayed to Oliver. What was he doing? How was he? Was he thinking of Percy too? Percy missed him so much, but he was so stubborn that he wouldn’t be the first one to apologise. 

The situation at the Ministry was becoming more dire by the day. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had amassed a large following, and Percy had been tasked with rooting them out within the Ministry. It was a daunting task, to be sure, but he knew he was up to it. He wasn’t allowed to talk to anyone – aside from the Minister – about what he was doing, in case they were a Death Eater, which caused him to be very lonely. He wanted very desperately to tell someone about all of his important work, to tell them about everything he had discovered, that he had such an important task, that the Minister had trusted him to seek out the rotten people in the Ministry...but he had no one. He was alone again. Naturally.

***

And then the Minister resigned. Publicly, at least. Percy knew the circumstances were different – his job requirements had changed mere minutes after Pius Thicknesse had taken over. No longer was he needed to uncover Death Eaters in the Ministry; no, they were no longer deemed a threat to public security. Instead, he was assigned to the Muggle-Born Registration Commission, something he found morally repugnant. He put in exceptional effort to find wizarding relatives of Muggle-born witches and wizards in order to spare them the humiliation of a trial with that foul toad Umbridge, and when he couldn’t find evidence, Percy might have fudged a relative or two in some cases. No matter how much work he did on all of his assigned cases, some of them still went to trial, and some of those were convicted of “stealing” their magic. Percy always felt absolutely wretched when he saw a Muggle-born frog-marched out of the courtrooms, believing he could have done more to prevent it, but knowing that Dolores Umbridge would find a way to convict regardless of relatives.

Percy could no longer find joy in his work. It brought him immense sadness knowing that if he made even a tiny error, the person whose file he was researching could be sentenced to Azkaban. He trudged through each day with the same monotony, arriving at 8:00 as required and leaving as early as possible, normally between 6 and 7pm. His flat was empty and lonely, as it always had been. He had nothing to distract him from how depressing his life was now. _And I only have myself to blame,_ he thought regularly. 

***

Soon after the Minister resigned, all Quidditch matches were cancelled. _In the interest of public safety,_ they said. _Keep the players and the spectators safe._

Oliver raged for days. They can’t cancel Quidditch! What was he going to do with his time? With his life? _How am I going to distract myself now?_ he wondered. _How can I keep myself from breaking into a million pieces every day if I don’t have Quidditch to keep me busy?_ Soon he found out. He didn’t like the solution.

The Quidditch players were reassigned to the Ministry according to their strengths in school. Oliver had been a mediocre student at best, and was hoping to be assigned to the Department of Magical Games and Sports. He was unlucky and was assigned to the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, Accidental Magic Reversal Section. He had gotten an E on his Transfiguration N.E.W.T., much to everyone’s surprise (including his own), so Oliver supposed this was as good a department as any. Except in its proximity to Percy. _Was it too close, or too far?_ he wondered. Some days he wasn’t sure. He didn’t know if he wanted to run to Percy and hold him forever, or never see him again. 

Sometimes Oliver wished he had never run into Percy in that Muggle dive. He had been given the most wonderful gift – someone who loved him for who he was, not for what he did; someone who cared for him; someone who just wanted to be with him – and it had been cruelly ripped away from him much too soon. Just because he couldn’t keep his stupid mouth shut. Was Percy dating someone new? Did Percy miss him? Did Percy ever think about him? Oliver thought about Percy all the time, even though he tried not to. It had been more than six months, and he still wasn’t over Percy. He wondered if he ever would be. He wondered if Percy was over him yet. Selfishly, he hoped that Percy wasn’t; that Percy ached as much as he did; that Percy still felt the ghost of Oliver in his bed, like Oliver felt Percy in his. 

Was he going to see Percy in the Ministry? Probably. Percy was the assistant to the Minister; he was everywhere. Oliver didn’t know what he would do when he saw Percy again. Lose the ability to speak? Likely. Make a fool of himself? Certain. He frowned as he walked into the toilet cubicle to “flush” himself into the Ministry. He couldn’t look like an arse on his first day. 

As soon as he flew into the Atrium, Oliver saw that breathtaking shock of ginger hair that he had so loved to run his fingers through. His heart skipped several beats and his stomach dropped. Had Percy seen him? Oliver started walking in the direction of the lifts – conveniently, that would take him right by Percy – and stopped briefly beside his ex-boyfriend. 

Percy felt a presence at his left side and he turned to find Oliver standing awkwardly beside him. “Can I help you?” he snapped, more harshly than he had intended.

“S’my first day,” Oliver muttered. “Thought maybe you could show me round.” He looked at the floor, chastised. 

“I am far too busy to be a guide,” Percy said, puffing out his chest. “There are signs throughout in case you get lost.” He pursed his lips. “Where are you going?”

“Level three. Accidental Magic Reversal,” replied Oliver, now turning red, embarrassed.

“When you exit the lift, you’ll want to turn left. It will be the second department on your right,” Percy said, a bit more gently than before. “Good luck.” He gave Oliver a sad smile before returning to his conversation. “As I was saying, these hearings are quite time-consuming. I’ve spent...”

Oliver was out of earshot before Percy finished the rest of his sentence. He didn’t know how to interpret Percy’s behaviour. Should he take his first or his second response as an indicator of his feelings? _Or should I stop reading into things and just ignore it?_ Oliver wondered as he stepped into the lift. He pressed the large ‘3’ button and waited. A moment later, he stepped off the lift and followed Percy’s instructions to his new department.

***

Percy finished his conversation with Mafalda Hopkirk – _vile, vile woman,_ he thought; _I don’t understand how someone can willingly work alongside Dolores Umbridge and not want to **Crucio** themselves every day_ – and excused himself. “I must get back,” he apologised. “I have at least fifteen more files to complete by lunchtime.” She nodded and Percy walked away, breathing an internal sigh of relief. At least he was free of her. 

But he had something – someone – else to worry about. Oliver. He had known that the Quidditch players would be coming to the Ministry; he had just forgotten when, and hadn’t thought that he would run into Oliver. He had planned on spending all of his time in his office to avoid these types of situations. He had been terribly unlucky – _lucky?_ he wondered – this morning. Now he would be distracted with thoughts of Oliver; those lips, how they felt pressed against his; those hands, how adept they were at finding his most sensitive spots; and oh, that cock… Percy shivered involuntarily. How he missed the feeling of Oliver’s cock filling him, fucking him, sending him to another plane of existence. 

_No,_ he told himself. He couldn’t think about that anymore. He had ruined it for himself. He didn’t deserve Oliver. What’s more, Oliver should have someone better, someone more...Oliver...than him. Someone more suited, more attractive, more outgoing, less Percy, than him. Percy shook his head and opened the door to his office. He found the Minister standing there, looking cross.

“Minister,” Percy said, surprised. “How can I help you, sir?”

“Weasley!” Thicknesse barked. “I want all of these files - “ he gestured to a stack at least three feet tall “ - finished by lunchtime. Dolores wants to review them and start her next round of hearings tomorrow.” He glared at Percy.

“Yes, sir,” Percy said, nodding once. 

The Minister stalked out of Percy’s office, his look of perpetual annoyance causing Percy to roll his eyes at his back. How was he going to get all of those files done in four hours? Percy felt a stab of apprehension. He sat at his desk and pulled the top file from the stack. Opening the folder, he saw the name and could have cried. It was Oliver. 

“But both of his parents are wizards,” he said to the empty office. Looking further at the family tree, he found two supposedly Muggle grandparents – a grandmother on his mother’s side and a grandfather on his father’s side. That was hardly an indictment. And even if it was true, Percy thought, who cares? Percy set Oliver’s file aside to look at later, knowing it would take him a great deal more time to cover up any potential Muggles in his lineage. 

***

Oliver’s first day was relatively uneventful. He was shown the ropes by several experienced Ministry employees, and given a small desk in the corner of the office. He wasn’t given any proper responsibilities, probably because the department head assumed that, since he was a Quidditch player, he had the brains of a troll. It didn’t bother Oliver, at least not right away. He had never enjoyed schoolwork, and this seemed to be a lot like schoolwork. Now he understood why Percy loved it. He was right in his element. Merlin, he missed that man. He hadn’t realised just how much until he had seen Percy again. Oliver’s heart ached with longing. If he could only apologise...if Percy would give him a moment of his time, maybe Oliver could convince Percy to forgive him. It was worth a try, Oliver thought, and scribbled a quick memo to Percy, sending it away seconds later. 

Oliver waited for what seemed like eons for a response. When one finally came, it was just one word: **“Yes.”** Oliver’s heart leapt in his chest. He wrote back on the same parchment, **“Lunch?”** He drummed his fingers on his desk, waiting for a response. 

***

Percy didn’t know what he was going to say to Oliver. Or how he was going to keep the news that Oliver was being investigated from him. Why did he agree to meet with him? This was going to be the hardest thing he had ever done. He mentally kicked himself. 

“Weasley!” The Minister had barged into his office once more, startling Percy out of his thoughts.

“Yes, sir,” Percy responded. He looked at his watch. It wasn’t quite lunchtime; he still had nearly an hour to get through all of the files on his desk, and he only had three more.

“Are you quite finished with that stack?”

“Very nearly, sir. Just three more.”

“Send the finished files to Dolores, then.” With that, the Minister turned on his heel and strode out of the office, his robes swishing behind him. Percy breathed a sigh of relief and called in his secretary. 

“Take these to Dolores Umbridge, would you?” he asked. She nodded and took the finished stack away. He turned back to his files and rushed through the two non-Oliver files; they were simple. Both were clerical errors. He sent the files out to his secretary with a note instructing her to take them to Umbridge – every time he thought of her, he shuddered – and reopened Oliver’s file. He pursed his lips. _Esther Williams,_ he thought. _Let’s see if we can find you somewhere in the Ministry archive._

Oliver’s maternal grandmother was an easy find. The Commission had mixed her up with someone else. His paternal grandfather, however… Percy spent the majority of the hour before lunch searching for Alastair Wood and found absolutely nothing. He frowned. How was he going to cover this up? He couldn’t allow Oliver to be taken away. Oliver was – had been, he told himself – the most important person in his life. He couldn’t be responsible for Oliver’s detention in Azkaban. He had to work through lunch in order to do this properly. Unfortunately – fortunately? - that meant missing his meeting with Oliver. He wrote a quick note to the other man explaining that something had come up and he wouldn’t be able to make it. He made no offer to reschedule.

***

Finally, a response arrived. Oliver opened the note with nervous excitement. 

**Must cancel. Something important has come up.**

**Percy**

Oliver’s stomach dropped. He had so been looking forward to this. He would try once more, he thought, writing back, **“Can we reschedule? Tomorrow?”,** hoping for another positive response. 

***

Percy received Oliver’s note but didn’t have time to reply. Oliver’s family tree was more important to him than writing a response. 

Then it occurred to him. Why hadn’t he thought of it before? _You’re an idiot,_ Percy, he chastised himself, as he pulled a file out of his large filing cabinet. There it was. Broomstix! The shop in Diagon Alley that sold, what else, broomsticks. And the first owner? Alastair Wood. Percy heaved a huge sigh of relief and scribbled a note in the file, attaching a copy of the page showing Alastair’s ownership of Broomstix. 

_That ought to be enough,_ thought Percy, sending the file out to his secretary. 

Twenty minutes later, she returned with the same file. “Sorry, but Umbridge isn’t satisfied,” she said. “Says that since Wood was an associate of Undesirable Number 1, we still have to call him in for a hearing.”

Percy could swear his heart stopped. _No matter what I do,_ he thought, _that hag will thwart me. I have to warn him._

“I’ll notify him,” Percy said, dismissing her with a wave. _And tell him to run._


	14. Goodbye, My Lover

A memo dropped onto Oliver’s desk. He unfolded it, slowly this time, not wanting to get his hopes up. 

**_Dear Mr Wood,_ **

**_I am writing to inform you that you have been called to testify on matters of your lineage as well as your connections to Undesireable Number 1. Your hearing has been scheduled for 11 November, 1997, at 9am in Courtroom Ten. Please be punctual._ **

****_Best wishes,  
Percy I. Weasley  
Assistant to the Minister_

What? Oliver could hardly believe his eyes. Both of his parents were wizards, as were all of the rest of his relatives, as far as he knew. Before he had another minute to be shocked, a second memo was on his desk. He unfolded it angrily.

**_Pub where we first met. 7 tonight._ **

**_P_ **

_Percy had to explain this to him,_ Oliver thought, incensed. He looked at the clock on the wall. It was only 2:30. How could he wait another four and a half hours for an explanation? He wanted to storm Percy’s office and demand to know what he meant by the memo, but knowing Percy, he wouldn’t get anywhere doing that. He would be frozen out, and perhaps Percy would go back on his invitation. Oliver didn’t want that at all. So he waited. 

When the clock struck six, Oliver rushed out of the department, wanting to get home to clean himself up before meeting Percy. He knew it sounded pathetic, but he wanted to look sharp, to show Percy what he was missing, when he saw his ex-boyfriend again. He brushed his teeth, combed his hair, and put on fresh deodorant and cologne, the kind Percy had given him for his birthday. _There,_ he thought with a satisfied smile before he Apparated to the alley behind the pub. _That should do it._

When Oliver arrived, Percy was already sitting in the dank pub, a half-empty mug sitting on the counter in front of him. He looked miserable. Oliver wanted to run to him and hold him tight, stroke his wavy hair and tell him everything would be okay. He restrained himself, choosing instead to walk purposefully toward Percy and sit down on the stool next to him. 

“Hullo,” Oliver said, not looking at Percy.

“Oliver,” Percy said dully, his eyes fixed on his mug.

“You wanted to see me?” 

_Desperately,_ Percy thought. _For months._ But he couldn’t say that. “It’s about - “ he looked around the room furtively, checking for possible Ministry plants ‘ - your hearing.” 

Oliver waited. 

“I tried as hard as I could to get that horrible woman not to bring you in for a hearing,” Percy started, keeping his gaze on his beer, “but she insisted.” He left out the part about nearly crying when he saw Oliver’s file, or that he would have gladly lied to keep Oliver out of the courtroom. “She’ll want to ask you about your family, as far back as you know, and about your relationship with Harry Potter.” His ears were turning red, which meant his cheeks weren’t far behind. His whole body felt hot, as if he would burst into flames at any second. 

“Why?” Oliver demanded. “Why me? Why now?”

Percy shook his head. “I wish I knew,” he answered apologetically. “I tried. I really did.” He paused. _Should I tell him that that’s why I cancelled?_ he wondered. _Might as well._ “That’s why I had to cancel our...meeting,” he added lamely, almost saying _date_ but deciding against it at the last second. “I wanted to make sure there were absolutely no mistakes in your file.” _I don’t want you to be sent to Azkaban,_ he added silently.

Oliver was taken aback. Here was Percy, his ex, taking extra time to protect his freedom, his life...and what was Oliver doing? Snapping at him. He felt rotten. “What can I do?” he asked hopefully.

“Not much,” replied Percy honestly. “At least not much that’s legal.” He looked up from his mug for the first time, seeing the fear in Oliver’s face. He wanted to take Oliver in his arms, to comfort him, kiss his forehead, promise Oliver that he would take care of him...but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t do that anymore. “The way I see it, you have two options. The first one is, you can show up tomorrow to your hearing, armed with all of the information about your family that I’ve given Umbridge. I brought you a copy of your file.” Percy pulled it out of his briefcase and handed it to Oliver. “And you can tell that horrible woman all you know about Harry, which, I assume, is nothing.”

Oliver nodded, taking the file wordlessly. He studied it for a moment, reading the notes written in Percy’s neat hand. Next to his maternal grandmother: _clerical error; s. archive cab. 746, folder 12, pg. 59._ Next to his paternal grandfather: _Broomstix orig. owner. s. Diagon Alley archive._ “And the second option?” he asked, nervous.

“Run,” Percy whispered. “Leave London and don’t look back.” He both wanted and didn’t want Oliver to run. He wanted him to stay alive, but he wanted Oliver to stay with him. 

Oliver thought about Percy’s proposal for a moment. Where would he go? He couldn’t go to his parents’ house; that would be the first place they looked. Besides, he didn’t want to endanger his family. He had nowhere else to go. “No,” he said firmly. “I’m not going to give in to these reprehensible people.” 

Percy looked pained. “You don’t understand the gravity of the situation, Oliver,” he said. “If – no, when – they find you guilty, they will sentence you to Azkaban. For life.” He paused. “No one has been found innocent yet, and there have been dozens of trials every day for the last four months.” He felt tears beginning to form in his eyes and he looked back at his mug. He couldn’t let Oliver see him cry. Oliver couldn’t know how strongly Percy still felt about him. 

Oliver absolutely hadn’t understood the gravity of the situation. Azkaban? _Shit,_ he thought. Maybe Percy was right; he had to run. He had to leave London and never come back. But what about Percy? What would Percy do? If the Ministry was coming for him, they would surely come for Percy. Percy was a bloody Weasley; his family was the biggest bunch of “blood traitors”, as the Death Eaters called them, there ever had been. “Will you come with me?” Oliver asked tentatively. “I don’t want to go alone.” _I’m frightened,_ he thought. 

Percy shook his head sadly. “I can’t,” he replied. “If I disappear on the day of your hearing, they might think I tipped you off.” 

“Who cares?” Oliver shot back. “We’ll be gone! Far away from those bastards and their racist regulations; they can’t do anything to us...I mean, to you.” 

Percy thought about it for a moment. Oliver was right, he knew, but he just couldn’t. He could do more good – or attempt to, at least – at the Ministry. Tears welling in his eyes, Percy shook his head. “I can’t,” he repeated. “I wish I could. I want to.” He paused. “But...I have something for you.” He pulled what looked like a ratty button from his trouser pocket and handed it to Oliver. Oliver turned it over in his hands. 

“What is this?” Oliver asked, frowning.

“I have another one,” Percy said, pulling out a matching button and making a fist around it. At once, Oliver’s button glowed blue. “It changes colours depending on your...feelings, I suppose. I got the idea from one of my father’s ridiculous Muggle toys.” He paused. “Red for angry, blue for sad, yellow for happy, and black for in trouble. If you’re ever in trouble...” Percy trailed off. How could he finish his sentence? _I’ll be there before you can say Knut?_ he thought. 

Percy didn’t have to finish, because Oliver’s face lit up. “You’re so brilliant, Perce,” he said warmly. “I’d’ve never thought of something like this.” He looked at the button. It was still glowing blue. Wait, blue meant sad. Was Percy...sad...that Oliver had to leave? Was Percy actually going to miss him? He looked over at Percy and saw his eyes filling with tears. _Fuck it,_ Oliver thought, and put his arm around Percy’s shoulders. “It’s going to be okay, Perce,” he said quietly. “I’m going to be fine. I always am.” He rubbed Percy’s back in an attempt to calm him.

Oliver’s touch was electric. Merlin, Percy had missed this. His heart jumped in his chest and he leaned into Oliver’s hand, feeling immediately at home with Oliver’s arm around him. “I don’t want to let you go,” Percy whispered. “I’ve missed you so much.”

What was that? Percy had missed him? Oliver was beyond shocked. He had thought it was one-sided, that Percy was over him, that Oliver had to move on...but here he was, sitting in the same Muggle dive where they had reconnected so many months ago, hearing that Percy missed him. “I’ve missed you, too,” Oliver said quietly. “I’m so sorry.”

“It was my fault,” Percy said. “You were right. I was horrible and selfish and should have spent more time with you. Now I have to let you go-ho-ho-ho and I don’t wa-ha-ha-hant to.” By now Percy was crying and he couldn’t speak properly. He didn’t care that the few other bar patrons were looking over at them. What did it matter? He wouldn’t see them again – _or, most likely, Oliver,_ he thought, which set him off on a fresh round of tears.

“Perce,” Oliver said calmly. “Let’s leave this place and go somewhere quiet. I don’t want what might be the last time we see each other to be miserable.” Percy nodded through his tears. Oliver paid for Percy’s drink and they left the bar, walking around the corner to the alley before Apparating to Oliver’s flat, which, as usual these days, was an absolute disaster area. 

“Merlin’s pants, Oliver,” Percy sniffled. “How do you find anything in here?”

“I don’t,” Oliver admitted. “I only kept it clean because you were here all the time.” _And I would do anything for you,_ he thought.

Percy rolled his eyes and, with a flick of his wand, things began flying onto their shelves and into their drawers. “See how easy that is?” 

Ignoring the sarcasm, Oliver gestured to the couch, the place they had sat the last time they had spoken. “Tea?” Percy nodded mutely and sunk onto the couch, remembering the vitriol he had spewed from this position. He was embarrassed and ashamed. Oliver had deserved much better than him...but Oliver still wanted him. He wasn’t worthy of Oliver’s forgiveness. He had acted like a complete prat. Oliver returned with the tea and set a mug – the mug Percy had always used – in front of him and sat down to Percy’s right.

“Listen,” Oliver started, “I don’t want to get into whose fault it was or who should be sorrier. Let’s just agree, we were both knobheads and move on, okay?” He smiled and pulled Percy close, kissing him on the cheek. “Besides, I want to spend tonight with you.” _In case I don’t have another chance,_ Oliver thought, terrified of what his future might bring. He had already heard horror stories of actual Muggle-borns on the run: some had been caught by Death Eaters and killed immediately; some had been intercepted by Snatchers and taken to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named; still more were missing, presumed dead. He didn’t want to be counted in any of those groups. He wanted to remain alive; to stay with Percy; to stay here in London, on his couch, with his favourite person, forever and ever.

Percy smiled. “Okay, knobhead,” he said, laughing a bit. “I can deal with that.” He allowed Oliver to pull him in, enjoying both the feeling of Oliver’s arm around his shoulders and Oliver’s lips on his face, which was starting to get hot. “I’ve missed this,” he sighed. “I’ve missed you.” He turned his head so he was facing Oliver. Gods, he was beautiful. His perfectly sculpted face, those deep blue eyes, the slight amount of stubble covering his square jaw… what would Percy do if he lost this? _You already have,_ he reminded himself sternly. _Don’t pretend you have him back just because he kissed you on the couch._

“Me too,” Oliver said. “I’ve missed you too. But we’re here now. We only have one night. Let’s enjoy it while we can, shall we?” There was a familiar twinkle in Oliver’s eye, and Percy grinned. “Once or twice,” Percy agreed. “But then...then I just want you to hold me.” He leaned into Oliver’s embrace, feeling his heart begin to beat faster and his breath catch in his throat. 

“Let’s make the most of our night, then,” Oliver said seductively, planting a light kiss on Percy’s neck. “Come to bed, my love. Let me show you how much I’ve missed you.”

***

Percy woke up in the middle of the night covered in sweat. He was cradled in Oliver’s muscular arms, and they both were covered by a heavy down duvet. Without removing himself from Oliver’s grasp, he pushed the duvet away and snuggled closer to Oliver. This was perfect. He wished he could stay like this forever, just cuddling with Oliver in his bed. He felt safe; the outside world with all of its threats and danger was a million miles away, and the only thing that mattered was Oliver. He closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep.

Several hours later, the sun was streaming through the windows. Oliver woke first and looked at the clock. 7:15. He shook Percy awake. “Perce,” he said gently. “You've got to get up. You have to go to work.”

“Mmmmmph,” Percy groaned. “Don’t wanna.”

Oliver smiled. “But you have to, remember? They can’t know that you told me.”

Suddenly Percy remembered. He was in Oliver’s bed, for the first time in months. Oliver had his hearing today, but he wasn’t going – he was escaping. “Here,” Percy said suddenly, holding his hand out. “Give me the buttons. And my wand.” Oliver obeyed, watching Percy with interest. Percy whispered a quick spell and looked satisfied with himself. “There,” he said. “Now when I miss you - “ _or you miss me,_ he thought “ - it will glow purple. That way you’ll know someone is always thinking of you.” 

Oliver gave Percy a huge smile and a passionate kiss. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he said happily. A second passed, and then he said, a sad tinge to his voice, “I wish I didn’t have to leave you.” 

“But you have to, remember?” Percy said, repeating Oliver’s sentence. “I don’t want you to go to Azkaban. I don’t want you to die. I couldn’t bear to lose you again.” 

Oliver sighed. He knew Percy was right; he always was. 

“Pack your things,” Percy commanded. “Only the most important things – your wand, warm clothing, and food. While you’re packing, I’ll shower and dress for work.”

Oliver gathered supplies quickly, packing them in an old Puddlemere duffel. He emptied his cupboards, and then realised that was a bad idea; Ministry officials would likely come to his flat looking for him when he didn’t show up for the hearing. It would be best if he only took a few things, instead of making it look like he was on the run. He packed old clothing, leaving his day-to-day outfits in the closet. Finally, he pocketed the ratty button. He felt warm all over just knowing it was there. When he was finished, he sat on the edge of his unmade bed, waiting for Percy to come out of the bathroom. _I might as well mess the flat up again,_ he thought. _Make it look as though there was a struggle._ He started pulling things off shelves and knocking furniture over in the living room. 

Percy heard the commotion and ran out of the bathroom. “What in the name of Merlin’s saggy pants are you doing?” he asked.

“Making it look like I was kidnapped,” Oliver said shortly. “Might as well make it convincing.” Percy nodded. It was a clever idea. He looked at his watch. 7:55. He’d be late to work, but today it didn’t matter. If he could spend a few extra minutes with Oliver, that was all he cared about. “You need to get going, don’t you?” Oliver asked. “You don’t want to look suspicious.”

Percy knew he was right, but he also wanted to spend his last few minutes with Oliver. “Goodbye, my love,” he said quietly. “I’ll always be with you.” He held Oliver tightly for several minutes, which both felt like an eternity and only seconds before Oliver pulled away. “Go,” Oliver said. “They can’t know that you told me anything.” He kissed Percy passionately and then Disapparated, leaving Percy standing alone in Oliver’s flat, eyes overflowing with tears.


	15. Travelling

Every day was a painful struggle for Percy. He kept the ragged button in his right trouser pocket, fingering it as often as he could without being obvious. He wanted Oliver to know he was thinking of him, that at least one person worried about him and cared about his safety. Most days his own button flashed purple, which softened the edges of Percy’s pain. There had been a few days, though, when it had been red or blue, and Percy had worried. What had Oliver been angry or sad about? What was he doing? Was he injured? Did he need help? Where was he? Percy felt helpless. He wished he knew something – anything – about Oliver, especially his location. Percy wanted to see Oliver so badly. He had connected the two buttons in case of emergencies, but he hadn’t given in to temptation and checked Oliver’s location. _It could be tortured out of me,_ was his reasoning. _I’ll only check it if he needs me._

Percy’s work was suffering as a result of his pain. Since his work was suffering, so were dozens of Muggle-born witches and wizards. He tried to make himself care, but he found that he couldn’t. He only worried – endlessly – about Oliver. The Ministry was crumbling from within, he knew, so the hearings wouldn’t continue for much longer. He had observed extremely strange behaviour from the Minister – he believed Thicknesse to be under the Imperius Curse, and therefore under the control of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Many of the other people in the Minister’s office were acting strangely, leading Percy to believe that they had either been Imperiused or they were Death Eaters. But what could he do? Nothing, he thought bitterly. I can’t even focus long enough to properly complete a file. 

So he did his job half-heartedly, day in and day out, as the Ministry crumbled around him. Muggle-borns were sent to Azkaban; half-bloods and anyone who couldn’t prove their lineage either went on the run or were imprisoned; and anyone who had ever had any contact with Harry Potter, also known as Undesireable Number One, was being put on trial. Percy was surprised he hadn’t been called to Courtroom Ten yet, as his youngest brother was practically joined at the hip with Harry Potter. 

_My youngest brother, to whom I haven’t spoken in three years,_ he thought miserably. Percy was now well and truly alone. 

***

Oliver had lost weight. The clothes he had brought with him now hung off his comparatively skeletal frame. His muscles were shriveling from lack of exercise. He had dark circles under his eyes and his face was drawn due to lack of good sleep. It had been two months since he had left Percy in his London flat. Every day Oliver held the tatty old button in his right fist and thought of Percy. He hoped Percy saw it, that he felt it. Just touching the button made him feel connected to Percy; made him feel that Percy cared about him. Sometimes tears would come to his eyes as he held it, thinking of all the time they had lost. He tried not to be sad; he didn’t want Percy to worry about him, but sometimes he couldn’t help himself. He was lonely. He missed his parents. He missed Quidditch. Most of all, he missed Percy. He missed his milky-white freckled skin; his fine, wavy ginger hair; his slightly nervous way of speaking. He missed Percy’s kisses; his touches; his hot breath on Oliver’s skin.

_Stop torturing yourself,_ Oliver ordered himself. _Focus on your surroundings._

For the last several days Oliver had been in the Cotswolds. It was easy for him to move around, and there was an abundance of fall apples and various vegetables at nearly every farm he passed. He took what he needed and moved on. He didn’t feel guilty at all; the season was coming to an end and much of the produce would probably go to waste if he didn’t eat it. _And I’m hungry,_ he thought. He never slept in the same place two nights in a row, which had probably helped him avoid detection. But it was time for him to move on; he had heard rumblings of Snatchers in the area, and he wasn’t keen on getting caught. After gathering his things from his makeshift campsite, Oliver Disapparated and arrived seconds later in the North York Moors, where his parents had taken him camping as a child. 

Oliver had hated camping. It had taken him away from flying in the back garden when he was younger, and practising Quidditch when he had gotten older. However, his parents had insisted on “family time”, and so Oliver had gone along grudgingly. He hadn’t been allowed to fly while there, because Muggles might have seen, and that would have been unacceptable. But now, seeing the familiar campsites, Oliver felt a twinge of melancholy. His parents didn’t know where he was – assuming they were still alive, he thought bitterly – and although he had always complained about going, he had eventually ended up mostly enjoying the camping trips. He had had fun with his parents spending a week away from the city, even though he couldn’t fly or practise Quidditch. 

Oliver sighed. He hadn’t expected his life to come to this, running from Death Eaters and Snatchers. But it was better than being in Azkaban, he knew, and he had Percy to thank for that. He touched the button in his pocket. It comforted him to know that it was there. That Percy was there, thinking of him.

***

At Christmas, Percy sent his mother a letter. It wasn’t much, he knew, but he was lonely. He had no one, which hadn’t bothered him before, but now, knowing that Oliver could die any day, he actually wanted to reconcile with his family. He had been a prat, this he was sure of; he would understand if they didn’t want to see him again. He apologised for his behaviour – though not in so many words; Percy didn’t think a letter was the best place for an apology – and asked for forgiveness, though only from his mother. He didn’t expect a response. 

Not an hour later, though, there was an owl tapping at his kitchen window. He opened the window, the owl flew in, and dropped a letter on the kitchen counter. It was addressed to him in his mother’s curly handwriting. Percy suddenly felt nervous. He waved the owl away and opened the letter. 

**_Percy,_ **

the letter began.

**_You’ve no idea how happy I am to hear from you. I’ve missed you – your father and I have missed you – so very much._ **

Percy saw tear stains on the parchment. He took a deep breath and continued reading.

**_Please, Percy, join us for Christmas lunch. Your father and I would love to see you._**

_Notice she didn’t mention anything about my siblings,_ Percy thought bitterly.

**_We’ll save a spot for you at the table. We always do._ **

**_All my love,  
Mum_ **

Percy re-folded the letter and sat at his kitchen table, resting his chin on his right palm. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to go to Christmas lunch; sure, he wanted to see his parents – did he, though? Or was he just giving in to his loneliness? - but his siblings...that was another story. They had always been mercilessly cruel to him. _Perfect Percy. Bighead Boy._ Transfiguring his Prefect badge to read “ _Pinhead_ ” or “ _Prissy_ ”, depending on their moods. He wasn’t ready to forgive them, and he was certain they felt the same way. However much he would prefer not to be alone at Christmas, Percy declined his mother’s offer. 

Instead of going to the Burrow for Christmas, Percy ordered Indian takeaway. The same takeaway Oliver had ordered for him on the night they had fought. He ordered his usual chicken tikka – not too spicy, of course – and took it home to wallow in his misery. 

***

Winter passed slowly. The cold days were bad, but the wet days were the worst. Oliver hated being wet. His clothes clung to his shrunken frame and he shivered for hours, even after he had performed a drying charm. He wasn’t getting enough to eat – the weather was too cold for anything to grow, and he was, as he had recently found out, terrible at fishing and hunting. On several occasions, he had stolen from village shops, but that made him feel horribly guilty, so he only did that when he couldn’t stand the hunger anymore.

When would he be able to go home? Oliver was miserable. He was lonely, cold, exhausted, and hungry all the time. Why did he agree to run away again? This was terrible. _This is worse than losing to Slytherin,_ he thought. _This is the worst feeling in the world._ He was sure that Percy’s button was glowing blue all the time now, because he was depressed almost constantly. England was dismal in winter. It wasn’t much better in spring, Oliver knew, but at least there would be food. 

He travelled to Dedham Vale at the beginning of March and camped on the coast, near Manningtree. It was drier and slightly warmer there; Oliver wondered why he hadn’t come here sooner. As he looked for a place to set up camp, he sought out heavily wooded areas with thick underbrush and possible wild fruit bushes. He wasn’t very successful; there were few trees and much of the brush had died during the winter. He would have to camouflage his tent, something he hated doing, because he wasn’t very good at it. _If Percy were here,_ Oliver often thought, _he could…_ He could what? Oliver never had a specific answer to this question; it always changed depending on his situation. Today’s answer was _‘he could camouflage my tent and keep me warm’_. 

Oliver missed Percy’s warmth. He missed Percy’s touch, his kisses, his voice...everything about him. On nights when he felt particularly despondent, he would set his button on the pillow beside him and talk to it as if it were Percy. He would tell it about his day, his weeks, his months; what he had seen and done since they had last seen each other; and, of course, how much he missed Percy. Some nights he talked to it until he fell asleep; others until he went hoarse with tears. Every night, however, he ended his conversation with “I love you more than you will ever know, and more than I could ever say.”


	16. Chapter 16

It was early April. Percy reviewed every arrest anxiously, searching in vain for Oliver. Not a day went by that Percy didn’t wake up at least four times in the middle of the night from a nightmare that Oliver had been captured and tortured to the brink of insanity. As a result, Percy was permanently exhausted. His eyes were sunken in their sockets and his face was paler than usual. He was distracted and wasn’t able to focus properly on his work. Fortunately, no one noticed – the Ministry was in complete disarray, and Percy was able to take advantage of that, at least for the time being.

Instead of working, Percy spent every day locked in his office, turning his battered button over and over in his hands. He hoped that it would change from blue to any other colour; he hated thinking that Oliver was sad and he couldn’t do anything about it. He wanted to hold Oliver, kiss him, tell him everything was going to be okay, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t do any of that, and it broke his heart. 

Today was different. He pulled the button out of his pocket and saw that it was black. Percy’s stomach dropped. Had Oliver been captured? Was he being tortured? Percy pointed his wand at the button immediately and got Oliver’s location: Richmond Park, just outside of London. His heart sank. Oliver had travelled too close to the Ministry. He stacked his paperwork (though he hadn’t done any of it today), shoved the button back in his pocket, and Disapparated.

***

After five months on the run, Oliver wanted to go home. He had wanted to go home for a long time, but until April, he had resisted the urge. Today he was in Richmond Park, just a few kilometers from London. It wasn’t exactly home, but it was close. Maybe he could sneak into Percy’s flat this evening and see him. That idea excited him. Maybe it was time for a wank. It had been so long since he had had a wank that it would be over quickly, but that was okay. He had to be careful anyway; he couldn’t lose focus on his surroundings for very long. 

No sooner had he started wanking than he heard a cracking noise outside his tent. Oliver froze in fear. He quickly pulled his pants and trousers up and sat in silence, hardly daring to breathe. He hoped that his camouflage charms held. He heard footsteps coming closer and he could swear his heart stopped beating. The footsteps stopped in front of his tent and he heard two deep male voices.

“Could’ve sworn it was here,” one said.

“Maybe we missed it,” said the other. “Let’s go back around and have another look.” The first man grunted in agreement and Oliver heard the footsteps walking away from him. The footsteps weren’t entirely out of earshot before there was a tiny ‘pop!’ and Percy appeared in his tent. 

“Thank Merlin you’re alright!” he whispered frantically. “I was so worried.” He wrapped his arms around Oliver and pulled him close, holding him tightly. To his surprise, Oliver felt tears in the corners of his eyes. This was the last thing he had expected. He had fully expected to be caught and captured, not to be embraced by Percy.

“How did you find me?” Oliver whispered.

“I put a Locating charm in your button,” Percy admitted. “But I only used it today – I didn’t want the information to be tortured out of me.” He gave Oliver a weak smile. He was just so happy that Oliver was okay and in one piece. 

A few seconds later, they heard the footsteps coming closer again.

“It has to be here,” said the first voice. “We can’t have missed him.”

_Him?_ Oliver thought fearfully. They were looking for him. He caught Percy’s eye and saw the same look of terror. Percy put one finger to his mouth, signalling for silence. Oliver nodded mutely. 

_“Homenum Revelio!”_

At that second, both Percy and Oliver felt something sweep over their heads. They had been discovered. They had to disappear. Percy squeezed Oliver tightly and they Disapparated. 

A moment later, they were in Percy’s flat. It wasn’t the best place to be, and definitely not the safest, but it was the first place Percy had thought of. As soon as they were standing in the kitchen, Oliver breathed a sigh of relief. Finally he was somewhere comfortable; somewhere warm; somewhere someone cared about him.

“Thank you,” Oliver said shakily. He didn’t know what he would have done had Percy not shown up. He probably would be in the custody of the Snatchers by now. 

Percy shook his head dismissively. “It’s nothing,” he said. “I had to save you; you’re the only thing that matters to me.” His face was beet-red; Oliver wasn’t sure if it was from adrenaline or worry. “You look like shit,” Percy continued matter-of-factly. “Haven’t you been eating? Or sleeping?” He looked worried this time. 

“Where was I supposed to find food in the winter?” Oliver asked, irritated. “And how was I supposed to sleep when I was freezing, lonely, and depressed?” 

Percy fell silent, chastened. “Well,” he said after a minute’s thought, “we’ll just have to get some decent food in you, and you’ll have a nice, comfortable place to sleep tonight.” He smiled at Oliver. “Merlin, I’ve missed you. You have no idea.”

“I can imagine,” Oliver said, returning the smile. “I saw the purple on the button every day.” Percy gave him a half-smile. At least Oliver knew he had been thinking of him constantly. “I missed you, too,” Oliver continued. “I talked to you every night.” Oliver grinned at Percy’s confused expression. “Well, to the button, I guess. I told you about my days and where I was. I imagined you with me all the time.” 

Percy threw his arms around Oliver. “You are adorable!” he exclaimed.

Oliver grimaced. He was many things, but adorable was not one of them. Handsome? Yes. Sexy? Definitely. But adorable? That was for kittens and babies, of which he was neither. 

Percy laughed. “Yes,” he said, “you’re adorable. That’s one of the most adorable things I have ever heard.” He paused. “You smell like a mountain troll. Why don’t you get in the shower, and I’ll join you in a minute?” He ruffled Oliver’s already-messy hair and kissed his forehead before shoving him off towards the bathroom. “Go, smelly. I’ll be there momentarily.” He slapped Oliver’s bum playfully as Oliver sauntered away. 

It was wonderful to see his...boyfriend? Could Percy call him that? He didn’t know – again. He had only had one day with Oliver before Oliver had had to leave, and that hadn’t been nearly enough. This time, he intended to take full advantage of their time together. _And Oliver,_ Percy thought mischievously as he followed Oliver to the bathroom. 

Nothing could have prepared Percy for what he saw in the bathroom. He had realised that Oliver was skinny, but he had no idea how skinny until he saw Oliver naked. He couldn’t help himself and gasped. It looked like he hadn’t eaten in weeks. Percy could count Oliver’s ribs. His stomach was concave and his skin was stretched taut across his frame. His muscles had deteriorated, probably because he hadn’t played Quidditch in months, Percy thought. 

“I know,” Oliver said quietly. “I know how I must look.”

“I didn’t mean to...” Percy stammered. “I was just...I mean...it was just a bit...” He couldn’t finish his sentence without coming across as horribly rude. 

“Food was hard to come by for a long time,” continued Oliver, “and I’m really bad at hunting and fishing, so … this is what happened.” He gestured at his emaciated torso helplessly. “You probably don’t think I’m attractive anymore, do you?” Oliver looked at Percy almost desperately, needing him to answer negatively, needing reassurance that no, he wasn’t horrified by Oliver’s current form; and no, he wasn’t going to throw Oliver back out into the streets.

Percy’s heart broke for Oliver. Here he had been, moaning over being in his office for the last five months, and Oliver hadn’t had enough to eat. He had been freezing and starving, and Percy had thought it was bad not being able to focus. “Come here,” Percy said, opening his arms to the other man. Oliver stepped out of the shower and into Percy’s arms. He rested his head on Percy’s shoulder, nuzzling his nose into the juncture between Percy’s neck and his shoulder, just enjoying Percy’s soft, warm skin and his comforting embrace. This felt right. This was the way things should be. Oliver pressed a light kiss into the hollow below Percy’s collarbone, and then one on his freckled neck. “I missed this,” he said softly. “I missed you.”

Percy let out a gasp of air that almost sounded like a whistle. How could he have forgotten what it was like to be kissed by Oliver? He shivered. Not because he was cold, but because he was gradually warming up in an area of his body that hadn’t received any attention since the day before Oliver had left. _No,_ he told himself. _Take care of Oliver first._ He rubbed Oliver’s back in a circular motion and heard Oliver sigh. 

“Let’s take a shower,” Percy heard himself saying. His voice sounded miles away. “And see where that takes us.” 

Oliver could only nod affirmatively. He was exhausted, hungry, and aroused. All three needs had to be satisfied, and he didn’t care in which order as long as it all happened soon. He allowed Percy to guide him back into the shower, under the warm water, where he closed his eyes and relaxed. He felt Percy begin to wash him; first his hair, which hadn’t been properly washed in Oliver couldn’t remember how long; then his shoulders, which were noticeably tense; and finally working his way down Oliver’s torso, clearly taking great care to be gentle and soothing. Oliver sighed. This was exactly what he needed. 

“Mmm, Perce,” he murmured, leaning into Percy’s soft touches. “I’ve missed you.” He knew he had just said this, but he felt the need to reiterate. “I’ve missed your hands; your mouth - “ he kissed Percy hungrily - “and oh Gods, your cock.” He pressed his groin up against Percy’s and felt the other man shudder. “Please, Perce, I...I need this.” 

“I’m almost finished,” Percy said. He had been finished for awhile; he was just taking his time lazily stroking Oliver’s gaunt frame, becoming acquainted with its new peaks and valleys. “Then...you can have whatever you want.”

“Hurry,” Oliver urged. He didn’t want to – no, he couldn’t – wait much longer. 

Percy didn’t really want to wait, either. He had waited too long. He would have fucked Oliver as soon as he had Apparated into the tent, had there not been Snatchers in the area. “Get out of the shower,” Percy finally ordered. “You’re clean enough.” He stared at Oliver hungrily. “I want you. I want you **now**.” He grabbed Oliver’s hand and pulled him, dripping wet, into the bedroom. 

Seconds later, they were a tangle of limbs on Percy’s bed; Oliver on his back and Percy kneeling above Oliver, meeting his lover’s sultry gaze. “Touch me,” breathed Oliver greedily, his hands fumbling for Percy’s hips to pull him closer for a steamy kiss. “Kiss me, touch me, fuck me, do whatever you want to me.” 

Percy didn’t have to be asked twice. He rolled one of Oliver’s nipples in between his thumb and forefinger, feeling the rough skin harden quickly and Oliver gasp beneath him. He didn’t want to be gentle anymore; he didn’t have the patience for it. He wanted to take what he wanted; what he needed; what was his. He captured Oliver’s lips in a passionate kiss, his tongue entering Oliver’s mouth and exploring every familiar crevice anew. 

Oliver had really, really missed this. More than food, more than Quidditch, more than anything else, he had missed Percy. He had especially missed Percy’s cock. “Perce,” Oliver moaned breathlessly.

“Ollie?”

“Fuck me.”

Percy flushed a deep crimson as he realised, he had thrown out the … protection … weeks ago. He had been on a deep-cleaning binge, and noticed that they had expired, and hadn’t bothered to buy new ones.

“Ollie?”

“Perce?”

“I don’t have any, uh...” Percy paused, embarrassed. “Any, uh...” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “...condoms.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Percy!” Oliver exclaimed, exasperated. “Forget the fucking condoms! Just fucking fuck me!” Today Oliver didn’t care. He was back with his boyfriend (could he call Percy his boyfriend? Fuck it; he was going to) after six months; Percy had saved him from Snatchers; and they were going to fuck. Oliver could not possibly be happier. 

If it were possible, Percy flushed an even deeper shade of maroon as he grabbed his wand from the bedside table. He cast a quiet _Silencio_ on the bedroom – _no point in the neighbours hearing us_ , he thought wickedly – and then pointed his wand at Oliver’s entrance. “I learnt a new spell while you were away,” Percy said mischievously. “I think you’ll like it.” With a flick of Percy’s wand, Oliver felt his arse being lubricated and stretched, not in an unpleasant way but in a way that was slightly unfamiliar. He drew in a sharp breath of air through his teeth. Percy snorted. “Told you,” he said.

The stretching sensation was followed, briefly, by a finger. Oliver closed his eyes, wanting to enjoy this forever. Seconds later, two fingers. Oliver groaned. “Fuck, Perce,” he moaned loudly. “I...” He didn’t get to finish his sentence; Percy kissed him again, his tongue eagerly exploring Oliver’s mouth. Oliver pressed his groin against Percy’s, silently begging him for release. 

“You want it?” Percy teased after breaking the kiss. Looking at Oliver’s flushed face and wide mouth, it seemed obvious that yes, Oliver did want it, and yes, he was ready. So without any further ado, Percy positioned himself in front of Oliver’s hole and slowly, torturously, entered him. This elicited a loud grunt from Oliver, followed by a long, deep sigh of pleasure. Percy was going to take his time and enjoy this; it had been far too long, and he wanted to savour every thrust.

“I – fuck – forgot how – fuck – good this felt,” Oliver moaned. He forced his eyes open. He wanted to watch Percy fuck him senseless. But first, he needed a hand on his cock, and it wasn’t going to be his. He pulled one of Percy’s hands from his hips and placed it on his cock, guiding it up and down the stiff shaft. He shuddered at the sensation. 

“Oh Perce,” he sighed.

Percy didn’t know how long he would last; it had been so long that he felt like he was going to explode any second. “Ollie,” he moaned in reply. “I’m … oh fuck … “ He tried to slow down, to delay his orgasm in order to push Oliver over the edge, but he was unsuccessful. He cried out as he climaxed, bucking his hips against Oliver’s thighs. As he came down from his orgasm, his breathing was ragged and sweat dripped from his forehead. With barely a moment’s pause, he pulled out, bent nearly in half, and took Oliver’s cock in his mouth.

Oliver gasped. Now it didn’t matter that he hadn’t come from being fucked; he was getting a proper blowjob, and he was near his climax. He felt Percy’s tongue swirling the length of his erection and he shuddered. “Perce, I’m gonna...” he warned as he felt waves of pleasure wash over him and his orgasm take over.

Percy continued sucking Oliver’s cock until it started to soften, enjoying the feel and the taste of it in his mouth. Merlin, how he had missed this. He gave the head one last kiss before unfolding his gangly torso and collapsing on top of Oliver. He kissed Oliver gently.

“That was bloody amazing,” Oliver said with a grin.

“I learnt from the best,” Percy replied, planting a series of kisses along Oliver’s jawline.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Oliver’s stomach grumbled loudly. “So,” Oliver said, “how about some food?”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I was moving, and then I had a really, really hard time writing this. It's going to get a lot worse before it gets better.

Percy lay awake for what seemed like hours. It wasn’t entirely due to Oliver’s loud snores, but that didn’t help. He was terrified that the Snatchers had seen their faces, that they had been recognised. They were not exactly inconspicuous. He was a member of one of Britain’s most well-known wizarding families, and Oliver was a professional Quidditch player. They were both easily recognisable. Percy sighed deeply. This was not going to be easy. What were they going to do? They couldn’t stay here; his flat would be the first place the Ministry – and therefore the Death Eaters – would look. _It’s a miracle no-one has broken down the door already,_ Percy thought.

He searched his brain for possible safehouses. _We could go to Bill and Fleur’s,_ he thought. _But I probably wouldn’t be welcome, as I refused their wedding invitation. And I’m not too keen on a shouting match with Fleur._ So that was out. He sighed again. This was the one time he wished he hadn’t completely cocked up his relationship with his family. It would make everything so much easier. 

Suddenly another idea occurred to him. His mother’s Christmas letter. She had implored him to visit. Maybe she would welcome them into their home now. Percy thought for a moment. Was he willing to go back on everything he had said and done – or, rather, not done – for Oliver? For a third time, Percy sighed. Why did things have to be so difficult? He would talk this through with Oliver in the morning, and see what he thought.

No sooner had Percy closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep than he heard a loud pounding at the front door. Both Oliver and Percy startled awake and looked at each other with abject terror in their eyes. 

“Death Eaters,” whispered Oliver fearfully. “What are we going to do?”

Percy shook his head. He had no idea. His heart was pounding and he felt like he might suffocate. He cursed himself for not taking Oliver away immediately after they’d arrived. He had been so selfish; so single-minded. He just had to spend one more night with Oliver, and that was going to get them caught. 

The pounding resumed. There was less than half a second’s pause, and then there was a sound of the door splintering, and heavy boots stomping through the hall. 

_I’m going to die in my pants,_ thought Oliver, his heart nearly jumping out of his throat. _This is going to be my last moment on Earth, and I’m wearing old dingy pants._ All he could do was pull Percy close; the footsteps were almost upon them, and his thoughts were too frantic to do anything else.

Seconds later, the bedroom door was forced open. Standing in front of them were three large Ministry thugs, two of whom were kitted out in full Death Eater regalia. The one wearing normal robes was Yaxley, the head of the department of Magical Law Enforcement. Percy shuddered involuntarily. He was almost as awful as Umbridge. _We are well and truly fucked,_ he thought, _and it’s all my fault. We just had to come here. We had to stay. I couldn’t find somewhere else; somewhere safer._

“I knew you was a poofter, Weasley, but the big Quidditch player?” sneered one of the Death Eaters. “I figgered he’d be gettin’ all the birds a bloke could want.” One of his companions snickered. Their boss cleared his throat loudly, and the two Death Eaters fell silent, chastened. 

“Weasley,” drawled Yaxley lazily, taking stock of the bedroom and the two mostly-nude, terrified men sitting in front of him. The air was thick with fear. “Would you care to explain how a wanted criminal came to be in your flat?” He paused, his sunken eyes shooting daggers at Oliver and Percy. “Or how this wanted criminal just happened to disappear on the eve of his hearing?”

Percy was caught, and he knew it. He knew it had been bound to happen sooner or later, and he was about to confess when he heard Oliver’s voice.

“It was me,” Oliver heard himself saying. “I pressured him into passing information to me so I could pass it on to the Order of the Phoenix.” Oliver pulled away from Percy, who looked wounded.

What was he doing? He was signing his own death warrant. He tried to telegraph that to Oliver, to tell him silently to shut his mouth, but it didn’t seem to work. He heard Oliver take another breath and begin to speak once more.

“That’s right,” Oliver continued, feeling a bit more confident now, even though he probably shouldn’t. “I threatened to expose him to the Minister if he didn’t help me; who would want a gay Minister? That’s what you want, isn’t it, Percy? To be Minister?” Merlin, this was terrible. He wanted to throw himself off a cliff for even thinking of doing this.

The larger of the two Death Eaters laughed meanly. “Trouble in paradise, eh, boys?” he said rudely.

“Shut it,” commanded Yaxley, pointing his wand menacingly at his inferiors. 

Oliver continued, trying to sound as acidic as possible. “I only used you, Percy; I used you to pass information to the Order. Your family knew about it, too. They knew I was fucking you, and that you loved it. That you loved me. I never loved you.” This was horrible. Oliver wanted to cry, but he had to soldier through. He had to be strong. _Hurt him,_ Oliver thought. _Hurt him to save him. There is no other way._ He forcibly pulled his hand away from Percy’s and crossed his arms over his chest. He set his face in what he hoped was a combination of determination and resentment, but it felt more like desperation. Oliver had to bite the inside of his lower lip to force back tears. _Don’t,_ he ordered himself. _Don’t you dare cry. Let him – let them – think this is the truth. It will save him._

Percy felt like a dagger was being shoved right through his heart. His stomach was roiling and he felt like he might throw up. _Why?_ he wondered, distraught. _Why is he doing this?_ “But...” Percy sputtered, unable to find any words. “But...but...”

“But nothing,” Oliver shot back, hearing his voice break. “That’s the way it was. The way it **is.** ” This time he looked towards the Death Eaters. “I used you and everything you told me. I only cared – I only **care** – about my own safety.” He threw the covers off and stood up, summoning his clothing and getting dressed quickly. He didn’t feel as brave as he was acting. His heart was racing and it felt like he might lose control of his bowels. He couldn’t look at Percy or he would give the game away. 

The three Ministry employees were conferring amongst themselves. Neither Percy nor Oliver could hear what they were saying, but the glances they were getting were not reassuring. Percy pulled the sheet up to his chin and his knees to his chest, trying to make himself as small as he felt. 

“So,” Yaxley said in a low voice, “we have two traitors here. Mr. Weasley, your crimes include passing information to a known criminal as well as associating with Undesirable Number 1 and his accomplices.” He paused and turned to face Oliver. “Mr. Wood, your crimes are more numerous and serious. You have evaded capture for six months, having disappeared before your hearing to discuss your lineage. You forced a Ministry employee to give you information – on what, we will soon find out – that you then passed on to a rebel organisation. You associated with said rebel organisation in an attempt to overthrow the Ministry. Do either of you deny your crimes?”

Oliver drew in a deep breath, closed his eyes, and reluctantly shook his head. He stole a glance at Percy, who appeared to have shrunk. 

Percy nodded. “I have not associated with Undesirable Number 1 since spring of 1995,” he said, his voice quaking with a mixture of anger and fear. “When I was a student at Hogwarts.”

“That’s not good enough,” spat Yaxley. “Your family associates with him willingly; you are therefore automatically guilty by association.” His face darkened and he pulled his wand from his robes, pointing it at Oliver, who was now standing, fully-clothed, beside Percy’s bed. Yaxley muttered an incantation and suddenly Oliver’s hands were bound. “Simmons, lead Wood to detention.” The Death Eater he had spoken to grabbed Oliver’s arms roughly and Disapparated.

“Mr. Weasley,” said Yaxley. “The Minister has always spoken very highly of you. I’m certain he will be very disappointed to find out that you have been feeding information to a wanted criminal.” He paused. “Especially since that information was going to the Order of the Phoenix.” A cruel grin started to spread across his face. “You will be punished especially severely. Unless, of course, you’re willing to talk.”

If he was willing to talk? Was he willing to turn on Oliver, like Oliver had just done to him? Percy couldn’t do that, no matter how many pieces his heart was in. He still loved Oliver, and he suspected that some part of him always would. Percy shook his head, afraid that if he opened his mouth, he would say something he might regret. His self-control was not at its finest. He found himself picking at a hangnail on his left ring finger; apparently he had been doing that for several minutes, as his finger was now quite bloody. “No,” Percy said, only trusting himself with a single syllable.

“Very well,” replied Yaxley, binding Percy’s hands as well, not allowing him to dress before grabbing his bloodied left hand and Disapparating.

***

Oliver was left in a dank cell. It smelled of cellar, but not the kind of cellar he had played in on rainy days as a child. This was the kind of cellar that was covered in mould; the kind of cellar that was papered with spiderwebs; the kind of cellar that had rats lurking in every corner. The floors were cold and damp. He shivered. He deserved this, he thought, for doing what he had just done. He felt like shit. He couldn’t imagine how Percy must feel, and he truly didn’t want to. Just seeing Percy’s face when he had said that he had never loved him...that had broken Oliver’s heart. 

_But it was all for the best, right?_ he tried to reassure himself. _Percy was safe...or will be safer than I am._ No matter how many times he told himself that, he still felt terrible. He saw Percy’s heart breaking over and over, saw the excruciating pain in his face, and his stomach twisted itself into knots. He deserved whatever the Death Eaters portioned out, just for what he had done to Percy, he thought, tears beginning to spill from his exhausted eyes.

***

Percy arrived in Yaxley’s office in only his pants. He was mortified. He saw Yaxley sneering at him and he glared back, putting on a show of much more confidence than he felt. “Haven’t you got an extra set of robes anywhere?” Percy said, staring Yaxley down. “Or must I retrieve some from my office?” He knew Yaxley wouldn’t back down, but perhaps if he acted confident – or at least unafraid – it would be better for him. 

“Only if you talk,” Yaxley said sharply. 

“Then I suppose I’ll be sitting here in my pants until the Minister arrives,” Percy shot back. “If he really thinks as highly of me as you’ve said, he’ll be very upset that I wasn’t given robes.” Perhaps that will work, he thought, threatening him with ministerial retribution. 

Yaxley looked chastened but made no move to retrieve extra clothing. “So be it,” he replied. “A traitor doesn’t deserve special treatment.” He sat down at his desk and began writing. Percy craned his neck in order to try to read what he was writing, but was unsuccessful. 

Percy sat on the only other chair in the cavernous office: an overstuffed armchair near a laughably large fireplace. Looking around the office, he saw the portraits whispering to one another, and he flushed a deep crimson. This was not the way he had expected to spend his night. Granted, he hadn’t expected to have to rescue Oliver, either, but … 

Thinking about Oliver made Percy ill. How could he have been so cruel? How could he have misled Percy so effortlessly? Why would he have done something so heartless? There was a sickening, twisting feeling in the pit of his stomach. He had just – only a few hours prior – been reunited with Oliver, and then this had been sprung on him. Percy’s mind was reeling and his chest was tight. The pain wasn’t sharp; it wasn’t dull; it just was. It was a constant ache. There was an Oliver-shaped hole in his heart...but how could there be, if Oliver had never loved him? He drew in a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. 

His heart. It was broken beyond repair. _Oliver had taken care of that,_ Percy thought bitterly. He had been so reckless, so careless with Percy’s emotions. Percy had trusted him, and Oliver had betrayed that trust. 

_I just don’t understand,_ he thought. He mentally replayed what he had imagined to be the most intimate, the most romantic connections between them: when Oliver had called Percy his boyfriend to his teammates; when Oliver had first said he loved him; when they had made up before Oliver had left. Once again he found himself wishing he had never run into Oliver in that filthy Muggle pub. It had only led to pain and heartache, and now to his probable death. Death would be preferable, Percy thought, to the pain he felt right now. He had been so happy once he had been reunited with Oliver, and for Oliver to take that away from him; to say it had all been a lie...he would rather not go on living. 

The door opened and the Minister strode in, looking at Percy as he did so. “Weasley!” he barked. “Why in Merlin’s name are you only in your pants?”

“Ask your deputy,” Percy answered crossly.

“Yaxley?” Thicknesse said.

“Traitors aren’t allowed special privileges,” Yaxley answered, repeating the statement he had given Percy moments before. “We found him in his pants, and we brought him in in his pants.” He looked inordinately pleased with himself, as if he was expecting a pat on the back. 

“You prat!” thundered Thicknesse. “This is my assistant! Get him some clothing!”

Deflated, Yaxley left his office in search of extra robes. Percy felt a small sense of pride at the tiny victory, but it soon vanished once the Minister took Yaxley’s chair and stared him down. 

“Is there any truth to these rumours, Weasley?” 

Percy pursed his lips. There was no point in lying. He would be found out one way or another; either Yaxley would inform on him or he would be given Veritaserum. “Yes, sir,” he admitted, looking at his feet. “Yaxley has mostly told you the truth. However, I haven’t seen – or associated with – Undesirable Number 1 in years.” He didn’t have to explain; it was well-known throughout the Ministry that he no longer spoke to his family. 

“That is truly disappointing, Weasley,” replied Thicknesse, sounding almost genuinely sorry. “I had expected better of you. You could have gone on to great things.” He paused. “But I am willing to lessen your sentence if you can give me information.” Another pause, this one longer. “Not only on the criminal Wood, but on several other key members of the Order of the Phoenix, who are all connected to your family in some way or another.” Percy started to protest, and the Minister cut him off. “I am fully aware, Weasley, that you do not speak to your family. That can be used to your – to _our_ – advantage. Assuming you want it to be.” 

Percy thought for a moment. Should he betray Oliver, the way he himself had been betrayed? His family? Whoever was involved in this Order of the Phoenix that Oliver seemed to know so much about? Anger surged through his veins, temporarily blinding him to reason. He heard himself saying “Yes” to the Minister, agreeing to pass information on unknown witches and wizards; agreeing to incriminate Oliver; agreeing to who knew what else. By the time Yaxley had returned with spare robes, Percy wasn’t exactly sure what he had agreed to, but he had a sinking feeling in his stomach. It paired unpleasantly with the tightness in his chest.

“Weasley,” Thicknesse said, “you will not be allowed to return home.” He didn’t look apologetic. “Instead, we’ll be keeping you under lock and key in your office. You’re unable to Apparate; the Floo network has been disconnected; you will only be allowed to send approved owls, the details of which will be discussed in the morning.” He looked at Yaxley, whose pleased expression had turned to one of disgust. “Yaxley, return Weasley to his office. Inform him of the consequences of breaking our agreement. Weasley, I will speak with you first thing in the morning, and you will be prepared.”

Percy nodded unhappily. He kept his gaze trained at the floor, preferring not to look at either the Minister or Yaxley as he exited the office. He already hated himself for agreeing to do this. It was only going to get worse.


	18. Chapter 18

Oliver’s days were long. He sat in that dank, cold cell, day in and day out, waiting for his hearing. Every morning he was awakened by the Cruciatus curse, in attempts to get information. At first he had cried out in shock and agony. Now he was silent, knowing he deserved it. 

He hadn’t heard anything about Percy since his arrival in the cell; not that his captors would have told him. His muscles ached. His whole body cried out in pain; he couldn’t move without being in excruciating agony. So he sat on the cold stone floor, all day, every day, thinking about Percy. He wondered what the Death Eaters had done to Percy. He wondered what Percy was doing at every minute of every day. He wondered how Percy was coping with the horrible way they had left each other. When Oliver thought about what he had said, he felt ice flow through his veins. It had been for the best, he knew, but it still made him feel like shit. 

Recalling the agony in Percy’s eyes broke his heart over and over. He hated that he had had to lie. He had ruined the best thing that had ever happened to him – except Quidditch – and now all he had was memories. At night, when he couldn’t sleep, he replayed their capture in his mind, wondering if he could have done anything differently. In his heart he knew he had done the right thing, but it still felt wretched.

One morning he woke up to the sound of muffled voices. He heard his name at random intervals. He strained to hear the conversations, but only caught bits and pieces.

“...Wood...extortion...”

“...Ministry employee...passing information...”

“...protected...defended...”

Oliver leaned closer to the door of his cell. Protected? Who protected whom? Who defended whom? The voices faded, and then there was a single booming voice.

“Wood!” a deep voice barked. Oliver started from his daydream. “Stand up! You’re to come to Courtroom Ten!”

_Fuck,_ Oliver thought. _I am definitely fucked now._ He obeyed the command wordlessly and went to the bars of his cell, waiting to be released. His hands were bound once more and a nondescript witch appeared in front of the door, staring him down. She opened the cell and Oliver shuffled out, following her mutely. His fate was to be decided in the coming minutes, and he found that he wasn’t frightened. He was only sad. Sad that his life had come to this; sad that he was most likely on his way to Azkaban; but especially sad that he hadn’t been able to tell Percy he loved him one last time.

He entered the courtroom and saw the entire Wizengamot seated before him. Oliver’s heart jumped into his throat. _Was this normal?_ he wondered. Why would the entire Wizengamot be trying his case? He hadn’t really done anything that terrible...okay, he had said he had extorted a Ministry employee for information that he would later pass on to the Order of the Phoenix. That was pretty bad, at least in the eyes of the current administration. Oliver sighed and looked around the courtroom. There were no familiar faces...wait. Was that...could it be...yes, it was! He saw that beautiful ginger hair in the corner of the courtroom and he forced himself to look away. He couldn’t compromise Percy’s safety.

_Assuming he **is**  safe,_ Oliver thought grimly. He stole a glance at his ex-lover and saw that he had large dark circles under his eyes and he was so pale, he was almost translucent. Percy had lost a significant amount of weight; weight he could ill afford to lose. He looked skeletal.

_Why is he here?,_ Oliver wondered. He didn’t look as though he was there in an official capacity...fuck. That meant he was testifying against Oliver. That meant, Oliver thought, that Percy had believed his lies and was now likely supporting the Ministry. _At least he doesn’t seem to have an inkling of the truth,_ Oliver thought. Which was...? What  _was_  the truth? Oliver wasn’t sure anymore. He had been repeating the lie for so long that he had almost convinced himself it was true. He only knew that he had to keep telling the lie he had told on the night they had been discovered. Aside from that, nothing was certain anymore.

“Be seated,” said a booming voice from in front of Oliver. He felt himself being pushed into a stiff-backed wooden chair and his wrists being bound to the armrests. Seconds later, his ankles were bound to the legs of the chair. It wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable, but he couldn’t sit like this for an extended period of time.

Then he felt the Dementors.

He shivered violently. All of the unpleasant experiences he had ever had came flooding back. Every time Gryffindor had lost (especially to Slytherin). Seeing his grandfather wither and die. He could hear the death rattle of his grandfather’s last breath in his mind. But that wasn’t the worst. The worst memory, and by far the most painful, was Percy. Seeing himself break Percy’s heart over and over was like a dull knife repeatedly piercing his abdomen; his insides twisted, his lungs contracted, and his muscles seized. Nothing – not even being hit in the head by a Bludger – had been this painful. Oliver wished he had learnt to produce a Patronus, or even to do wandless magic, but what use would either of them be now in his current state? He couldn’t focus on anything but the pain he had caused Percy. 

‘This is your fault,’ he heard Percy say. ‘If you had let me do the talking, we wouldn’t be in this mess.’ 

_No!_ He thought. _I had to do it! To save you!_

‘You always have to play the hero,’ mind-Percy scolded. ‘You’re so selfish. That’s why we’ll never be together – you only think of yourself. You can’t take anyone else’s needs into consideration.’

_No! That’s not true!_

“Mr Wood!” 

Oliver shook out of his trauma-induced reverie and looked in the direction of the voice. It was coming from the Minister for Magic. _Since when did the Minister take part in these hearings,_ Oliver wondered. 

“Sir?”

“Mr Wood,” the Minister repeated. “You have been brought here on the following charges: attempting to evade capture; extorting a Ministry employee; association with Undesirable Number 1; and questionable lineage.” He paused, glancing across the courtroom. “Do you understand the charges levelled against you?”

Oliver nodded once.

“I would like to call my first witness.” The Minister looked toward the door, which opened silently. The Death Eater who had escorted Oliver to his detention cell appeared. Oliver was only certain it was the same one because of his withered left arm, which hung uselessly at his side. “Simmons,” the Minister continued. “Please tell the court what you saw on the night that Mr Wood was detained.”

Simmons limped to the front of the courtroom, glaring at Oliver as he did so. _You think you’re better than me?_ Oliver thought angrily. _I’m just as much a wizard as you are, you racist fuck._

“We was out mindin’ our own bidniss,” began Simmons, “when Mr Yaxley called us – that is, Jones and me – inter ‘is office. Boys, ‘e says, boys, we found us a trai’or.” Simmons rubbed his hands together almost gleefully, recalling the evening. “So ‘e says, boys, we got to go to central London and catch us some Mudbloods.” He paused and looked at the Minister. “When we got to the flat, we knocked. We ain’t savages.” 

Oliver almost laughed. Not savages? They knocked and kicked the door right in.

“When there was no answer, we went ri’ in. Could’ve been dangerous, y’know, but we gots to protect the purebloods.” Simmons looked inordinately pleased with himself. “We found th’ Mudblood here - “ he gestured to Oliver “ - in bed - “ he made a disgusted face “ - wiv ‘at one there.” He gestured to Percy, who was almost magenta. “Buncha fairies, ‘f y’ask me.”

“We didn’t, but go on,” the Minister said, a look of deep disdain crossing his face. 

Simmons coloured and shifted in his seat. “As I were sayin’, we found th’ Mudblood wiv ‘at one there.”

“Mr Weasley?” the Minister asked. 

“Yeh,” affirmed Simmons. “Wiv ‘im.” 

The Minister looked towards the stenographer, who nodded. “Continue, Simmons.”

“Anyway, Mr Yaxley tol’ ‘em why we were there, and ‘e tol’ me to take tha’ one - “ he jerked his head in Oliver’s direction “ - to a cell. So I did,” he finished lamely. 

“Simmons,” the Minister said, with a very put-upon sigh, “the Wizengamot are not interested in what _you_ did. We are interested in what the accused did.”

Simmons looked at the floor. “Oh,” he said. “Right. Well, when Mr Yaxley tol’ ‘em why we were there, tha’ one started talkin’.” He narrowed his eyes at Oliver. “Sayin’ that it was all ‘is fault, that he’d been lyin’ to th’ other one, that he’d never loved th’ other one, buncha pansy shite like that.” He looked disgusted. 

The Minister didn’t seem to be satisfied. “Do you recall exactly what the accused said, Simmons?”

“No, I don’t,” Simmons said, looking a bit frightened, as if he would be struck dead for not being able to answer the question.

This time the Minister certainly wasn’t satisfied, but there was nothing he could do. “Thank you, Simmons. You may go,” he said dismissively. 

Simmons stood and limped back out, giving Oliver a nasty look as he did so. 

“My second witness,” the Minister said, “is Mr Percy Weasley. Mr Weasley, please be seated.”

Percy walked slowly to the chair in the middle of the room, looking as if he might fall at any second. The colour that had been in his cheeks when Simmons was testifying had gone; now he was chalk-white. He sat cautiously, as if the chair might collapse under his now-emaciated frame. 

“Mr Weasley,” the Minister repeated. “Please tell the Wizengamot about your relationship to the accused.”

_There_ was the colour in Percy’s cheeks. He immediately turned brick-red as he opened his mouth to take a breath. 

“Well,” he mumbled, “Ol – the accused – and I...you see...it was like this...” 

Oliver stared at Percy. He wasn’t going to say it. Oliver didn’t blame him, not really, but it still made him sad. 

“We were...dating,” Percy muttered, barely audible. 

“Pardon?”

“Dating,” he repeated, only slightly louder than the first time. 

“You and the accused were dating?” the Minister repeated loudly, almost cruelly, with a glint in his eyes that Oliver didn’t trust. 

Percy nodded once affirmatively. 

“I see.” Beat. “Continue, Mr Weasley.”

“So we were...close,” Percy continued. “Or so I thought.” He paused, shooting Oliver a pained look. Oliver saw the anguish in his eyes – _still,_ he thought – and he wanted to run to Percy, tell him that it was all a lie; that he did it to save him, and to please, please, please forgive him.

“On the night of the...” he paused. “When the accused...when we were...detained, we had been asleep. Simmons provided a mostly-accurate description. We were asleep - “ Percy neglected to mention what had exhausted them, which was probably a wise decision “ - when we heard a loud pounding on the front door. I reckon it was thirty seconds later that the door was kicked in. Your deputy, Yaxley, and his two thugs clattered through my flat, disregarding my privacy and my belongings.” Percy tried to look threatening, but he only succeeded in looking slightly constipated. Oliver had to bite his lip to suppress his laughter. 

“Yes, Mr Weasley, I am aware,” the Minister replied, sounding very irritated, as if he had heard this complaint a dozen times. “I have seen your multiple reimbursement requests.” 

Looking a bit vindicated, Percy continued. “Yaxley asked why Ol – the accused – was in my flat, and how it had been possible for him to disappear on the eve of his hearing.” He flushed a light pink. _Here comes the hard part,_ Oliver thought, and looked away. He didn’t want to see Percy as he retold Oliver’s lie.

“Ol – the accused – informed Yaxley that he had been lying to me and using me for information, which he had then passed on to the Order of the Phoenix,” Percy said, his voice wavering. “This was also news to me.” He paused and took a shaky breath. “He said he had used me; that he only used me for information; that he only cared about his own safety.” Oliver noticed that he had left out the part where Oliver had said he had never loved him. Oliver wished he could forget that, too. “Then Yaxley told Simmons to take Oli – the accused – to the detention centre. After that, Yaxley questioned me. I was to be detained for associating with a wanted criminal as well as with Undesirable Number 1.” 

The Minister nodded, indicating that he should go on.

“You know the rest, sir,” Percy said, an air of irritation in his voice. “I was taken to Yaxley’s office, where you arrived moments later.”

“Please repeat what happened for the court, Mr Weasley.”

“I was taken to the Ministry to inform you of my crimes. Once there, I was informed that if I provided the Ministry with information, my sentence would be lighter than if I did not.” Percy looked down at his feet, seemingly ashamed. 

Oliver was shocked. They had blackmailed Percy for information? He wanted to be outraged, but found that he couldn’t. They would stop at nothing to “purify” the wizarding world, it seemed. Oliver tried to catch Percy’s eye, but was unsuccessful. He continued looking in Percy’s direction, hoping to connect with him. 

“Please continue.”

Percy wrung his hands in his lap. “I agreed,” he almost whispered. He looked humiliated. _And rightly so,_ Oliver thought, indignant. He had thought Percy had more of a spine than that. 

“Thank you, Mr Weasley,” the Minister said, looking quite pleased with himself. “You may step down.”

As Percy left the courtroom, Oliver tried once more to meet his gaze. He finally succeeded and gave him a pleading look. One that tried to convey all of the emotions he had felt for the last few days, to tell Percy how much he loved him; how sorry he was; and how much he had missed him. Percy’s face hardened and he looked away. _That was it,_ Oliver thought. _I’ve lost him for good._

“Mr Wood,” the Minister said, turning his attention to Oliver. “We are here to discuss your sentence.” He looked toward the Wizengamot. “Aside from him extorting a Ministry official for information, he is of impure blood status and disappeared before his first hearing regarding his lineage.” A few members of the Wizengamot glared at Oliver. Still more gave him sad looks, as if they wished they could do something to help him. 

“If found guilty, your wand will be destroyed; you will be sentenced to Azkaban; and you will be given the Dementor’s Kiss. Do you understand?”

Oliver felt sick to his stomach. How could everything have gone so terribly wrong in such a short period of time?

“Do you understand, Mr Wood?” the Minister repeated, sounding annoyed.

Oliver nodded.

“Good. Now, by a show of hands, based on testimony today, who believes that Mr Wood is guilty?”

Hands went up slowly. Oliver counted. Ten...twelve...sixteen...nineteen...twenty-three...twenty-four… One more and he was convicted. It looked as though movement had stopped, and the Minister looked extremely irritated. But seconds later, two more Wizengamot members raised their placards. Twenty-six. Oliver had been convicted. His stomach sunk. 

“You will be returned to your cell for the evening, Mr Wood,” the Minister began, “and then tomorrow you shall be transferred to Azkaban.” He nodded to the Wizengamot. “Thank you for your service. You are dismissed.” 

The nondescript witch who had led Oliver into the courtroom returned, and she removed the bindings from Oliver’s wrists and legs. With her wand digging into Oliver’s back, she led him back to his cell. Once he was in, she slammed the door and left him alone.

Alone. Now he was truly, achingly alone. And he would die alone. He found he couldn’t muster any tears, though this was as broken as he had ever been.


	19. Chapter 19

On the morning of Oliver’s trial, Percy woke early. He had been told that he was to testify, though he had protested stridently.

“ _Mr Weasley,” the Minister had said, “you have been so very helpful to us. Now you must help us one last time.”_

_ Percy had shaken his head. He had known what was coming: the Minister wanted him to incriminate Oliver. He couldn’t. Even though he thought he hated Oliver, that he wanted Oliver to suffer for how he had made  Percy suffer, he couldn’t bring himself to hammer the final nail in Oliver’s coffin.  He still loved Oliver, and he always would, no matter how much Oliver had hurt him. _

“ _No,” Percy had heard himself say. “I won’t testify.”_

“ _That’s quite bold of you, Weasley, but you will testify. It was not a request.”_

Getting out of bed –  not his own bed, of course; he was sleeping on a cot in his office – Percy  felt weak. He had lost weight since he had started informing for the Minister, and that had only been two weeks ago. He hadn’t been eating, not really, and he had hardly been sleeping. As a result, he looked like a walking corpse. His eyes were sunken and his skin  was pale r than usual , marked with random blotches and fine lines.  He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and looked away. He looked like death warmed over, and he didn’t want to see it.

Percy wasn’t proud of what he had been doing. He was actually quite ashamed of himself.  He had betrayed Oliver; he had betrayed his family; he had betrayed himself.

“ _Tell us about Oliver Wood,” the Minister had said. “Tell us why he might want to pass information to the Order of the Phoenix.”_

Percy hadn’t known. He hadn’t known why Oliver might want to do such a thing.  He had been just as surprised as the next person. He still laid awake most nights and cried.

“ _Tell us what you know about the Order of the Phoenix.”_

_Percy had shaken his head. He hadn’t known anything._

“ _Tell us, Weasley,” the Minister had threatened, “or you will receive the same sentence as Wood.”_

_ Percy had decided it would be better to invent something. “ As far as I know, sir,” he had begun, “they are a group dedicated to overthrowing the Ministry. During the First Wizarding War, they fought against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, as I am sure you are aware.” He had paused, trying to gauge his boss’s reaction. When none had come, he had continued. “After the defeat of You-Know-Who, they presumably went underground.  I don’t know who the original members were, as I was just a child during the first war. I don’t know who the current members are, to be quite honest.” _

_The Minister had stared at Percy, perhaps trying to get him to give up more information that he didn’t have. Percy had held his gaze and remained silent._

As with most mornings, Percy drank his tea and ate his toast in silence.  He sat at his desk and contemplated his testimony. How was he going to do this? How could he possibly testify against Oliver and still look at himself in the mirror? Percy had no idea.

A sharp knock came at his office door and he swallowed the last bit of his toast. “Come in!” he called.

“Weasley,” Yaxley said gruffly, obviously displeased to see Percy. There was no love lost between the two; Yaxley had been dressed down for his treatment of Percy on the night of his capture and Percy had reveled in Yaxley’s punishment. Not so secretly, either. Every time he had seen Yaxley after he had been punished, Percy had commented snarkily on his correction. It didn’t make him feel better, but it didn’t make him feel worse, either.

“ _Tell us about Undesireable Number 1,” the Minister had said, his quill poised to take notes._

_Percy had closed his eyes. It had been so long since he had spoken to or even seen Harry; how was he supposed to know what he was doing?_

“ _I have no idea what he’s doing,” Percy had said shortly. “Like I told Yaxley, I haven’t seen him since I was a student at Hogwarts.”_

“ _That is a lie,” the Minister had replied quickly. “You were at the Tri-Wizard Tournament, in which he was a champion.”_

“ _Oh, please,” Percy had snorted. “I was there on official business. Do you honestly think I would have spent time socialising?” He should have been more respectful to the Minister, he knew, but really, that line of questioning was just idiotic._

“Come with me,” Yaxley said in the same gruff voice, gesturing to the hallway. “Your testimony is required.”

Percy grimaced. He hoped Oliver wouldn’t be present. He didn’t want to look at Oliver while he testified against him.  He didn’t want to see the heartbreak and the pain on his lover’s face. He didn’t think he could handle it. He could hardly handle day-to-day living; how could he handle seeing Oliver’s heart break?

H e followed Yaxley to Courtroom 10, where he was  relieved to see Oliver absent .  Hopefully he would only be testifying to the Wizengamot.

Momentarily the door opened and Oliver was led into the courtroom. Percy deflated. Oliver’s hands were bound and he looked as though he had been tortured mercilessly. His face was covered in purple and green bruises; his left eye was so swollen that it couldn’t even fully open. It looked as though his nose had been broken, healed, and then broken again in the few weeks he had been incarcerated. Percy saw hints of scabs healing on Oliver’s wrists; had he tried to …? No, he told himself. No, Oliver wouldn’t do that. Not even in the worst of circumstances.

Percy watched out of the corner of his eye as Oliver was bound to his chair. He couldn’t look directly at Oliver or he was certain he would wail in agony. It felt like his heart was about to burst through his ribcage and explode.  He couldn’t bear seeing Oliver like this.

T he Minister called the hearing to order and Percy stared at the floor. He sneaked glances at Oliver every few minutes, and every time, he wished he hadn’t.  Oliver looked more and more defeated with every sentence.  Percy knew this was Oliver’s death sentence. How was he going to fix this? Could he fix it at all?

_ This is all my fault, _ he thought.  _ I have to come up with a solution, and it has to be fast. _

Percy was so lost in his thoughts that he hardly heard the Minister announce his name.

“Mr Weasley,” the Minister repeated.

Percy shook himself out of his thoughts and walked to the witness chair. He avoided looking at Oliver, whose gaze he could feel.  As he testified, he felt more and more ashamed of himself. Shame from giving information to the Ministry; shame from testifying against Oliver; and especially shame from being so selfish that his actions had gotten Oliver captured.  He heard his voice shake as he explained their relationship – though he tried to keep the details to a minimum; no one needed to know the ins and outs of their affairs – and what had happened on the night they were captured. He also tried to withhold as much information as possible regarding that incident, but the Minister insisted.  _Even though he was there,_ Percy thought, irritated.  He wanted to speak as little as necessary. He didn’t want to incriminate Oliver.

When he was dismissed, Percy stole a glance at Oliver, who looked utterly broken and demoralised. If there had been any part of Percy’s heart still intact,  now it was lying on the floor in pieces. As he walked out of the courtroom, he caught Oliver’s eye. The unbelievable sadness in his face almost broke Percy. He couldn’t relay to Oliver in one glance how ashamed he was of his behaviour; how much he wished he could apologise; how much he wanted to run over to Oliver and hold him, caress his bruised cheek and heal his injuries; how much he just wanted to tell Oliver he  _loved_ him. So he looked away.

***

Later in the afternoon, Percy was in his makeshift prison: his office.  _It’s better than where Oliver is, I’m sure,_ he thought shamefully. He was looking over transcripts from previous hearings when Yaxley came through his door.

“Weasley,” Yaxley said, as if Percy didn’t know his own name.

“Yaxley,” Percy replied shortly.

“Oliver Wood has been sentenced.”

Percy didn’t require further explanation. He forced his face to stay neutral – a Herculean task – and nodded briefly. “Thank you for the update. Will there be anything else?”

“Minister thought you might like a minute with your bum buddy,” Yaxley said nastily, almost giggling at Percy’s obvious discomfort at his statement. “So he sent me to tell you – you get a half hour to tell ‘im goodbye before he gets the Kiss.” Pause. “Can’t go now though; he’s not yet in his cell.”

Percy glared at Yaxley. “And when might he be returned to his cell?”

“Dunno,” Yaxley replied, clearly enjoying making Percy squirm. “Give it an hour or so and then head to the detention centre.”

“Thank you, Yaxley,” Percy said stiffly. “You may go.” He waved Yaxley out the door and shut it behind his colleague.

_ Oliver is going to be given the Dementor’s Kiss! _ Percy thought, petrified.  _ How am I going to save him? _

He sat at his desk again and closed his eyes. The detention centre was run by people who were – in Percy’s mind – not very bright. He could probably pull a fast one on them if he was quick and got Oliver out of the building  _ and _ out of the country in under five minutes.

_ Apparition is only blocked from my office, right? _ Percy wondered. He decided to try it. He  walked out of his office, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, and as soon as he was out the door, successfully Apparated to the canteen. A small smile crossed his face as his plan started to fall into place.

***

Oliver was led back to his cell by the nondescript witch, and as she slammed the door, she said, “You know, I was a big fan of Puddlemere United. I was at the match where you debuted for the first team. You were a great Quidditch player. Shame this is happening to you.” Oliver thought he heard genuine regret in her voice. He slumped against the cold stone wall and buried his face in his hands. So this was it. This was how his life was going to end. Alone, in a freezing cell, betrayed by the only person he had ever really loved.

Moments later, Oliver heard brisk footsteps coming toward his cell. It wasn’t mealtime yet, and he wasn’t scheduled to be transferred until tomorrow. Was a new prisoner  coming in? Was he going to be tortured again? That usually only happened in the morning, he reminded himself, and looked through the bars of his cell, waiting to see the source of the footsteps.

He didn’t have to wait long. The long, gangly legs of his lover appeared around the corner, followed by the emaciated torso and pale face. Though he felt terribly betrayed, Oliver couldn’t stop his heart from skipping a beat at the sight of Percy.  _ Has he come to apologise?  _ Oliver thought hopefully, _ or to rub it in that I’m going to be given the Dementor’s Kiss? _

Percy stopped in front of Oliver’s cell and looked around nervously. “We don’t have much time,” he said quietly. “They think I’m here to say goodbye – I was – I mean – that was my original – you know – that was why I was going to come – but I couldn’t...I couldn’t let that horrible thing happen to you.” He paused and looked down at his feet, a flush creeping up his cheeks. “Especially when it’s all my fault.”

“Your fault?” Oliver asked, a little too loudly.

“Keep it down!” Percy said anxiously. “Don’t draw attention to us! And yes, my fault. I’ll explain later.” He pointed his wand at the lock on the cell door and opened it easily and silently. He was thankful for his hours upon hours of studying; they were paying off in spades. He gestured to Oliver to come with him, but Oliver stood, unmoving, against the back wall of his cell.

“Why are you doing this?” Oliver asked. “Why are you saving me when I said those things to you?” _Those things I didn’t mean_ , he thought regretfully.

“I’ll tell you later,” Percy said. “We don’t have time now. They’ll notice I’m gone, and then they’ll figure out I’ve gone to break you out of your cell.” He gestured to Oliver to come with him. “Move with a purpose, please. I promise, I’ll tell you once we get where we’re going.” He held out his hand. “Come on. Take my hand. We’re going Side-Along.”

Oliver moved away from the wall and took Percy’s hand. It had been too long – but five minutes would be too long, really – since he had touched Percy. His skin was delicate and soft, unlike Oliver’s own rough, callused hands.  He wove their fingers together and closed his eyes. He didn’t care where they were, as long as they were together. A second later, Oliver felt the familiar unpleasant feeling of Apparition, and then they were in a field.

“Where are we?” he asked Percy, looking around.

“Wales,” Percy answered, casting camouflaging spells. “Outside Cardiff.” Once he was satisfied that they were properly camouflaged, he pulled a tent out of the duffel – Oliver’s Puddlemere United duffel; he had confiscated it and its contents from the Minister’s office before going down to break Oliver out – and set it up quickly. “Get in,” he ordered Oliver. “And be quiet.”

Oliver dutifully climbed into the tent and sat on one of the camp beds inside. He watched as Percy made tea. Percy couldn’t do anything without a cup of tea in his hand, Oliver remembered, smiling.

“Here,” Percy said, handing Oliver a cup and sitting across from him. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” Percy felt his breathing begin to hitch and his eyes begin to water. _Finish your apology,_ he ordered himself. “I have been a terrible partner,” he continued. “Partners don’t snitch on each other. Partners don’t testify against each other. Partners rescue each other.” He looked away, feeling embarrassed. He didn’t even know if Oliver wanted to be his partner. After all, he had said he didn’t love Percy.

“But let me tell you,” Percy continued, “why I did what I did. I didn’t do _anything_ to hurt you. I would _never_ do that.” He paused, considering his next words carefully. “I love you too much – still – to ever hurt you. I don’t ask that you reciprocate.” _But it would be nice,_ he thought. “When we were captured,” he began, “I was taken to the Minister’s office. I had to explain what had happened  and tell him how you had ended up in my flat.”

Oliver nodded, his face emotionless.

“He offered me a deal: snitch and get a lighter sentence, or be executed for treason immediately.” Percy paused. “I...I’m not as strong as you. I’m not a martyr. So I chose the first option.” He blushed, ashamed. “But,” he continued, “I tried to give the Minister as much misinformation as possible. When I didn’t know something – which was often – I made up the most natural-sounding lie possible. Hopefully it ruined their ‘Muggle-hunts’.” Percy made a face. “I tried to get out of testifying. I refused. But the Minister forced me.” He looked at Oliver apologetically. “I wish I hadn’t done any of this. I wish I was a stronger person and had chosen the second option.”

“I don’t,” said Oliver. “If you had, then you wouldn’t be sitting here across from me.” He gave Percy a sad half-smile.

“You’re not angry with me?” Percy asked, surprised.

“Of course I am, you prat,” Oliver said, rolling his eyes. “You gave the Minister information on me and who knows what else!” Percy flushed a deep maroon. “But I’d be angrier if you were dead. C’mere, you.” Oliver patted the spot next to him, motioning for Percy to sit beside him, which he did. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I was horrible to you.” He set his tea on the floor in favor of placing both of his hands on either side of Percy’s thin face. “I said those things to protect you. I wanted the Death Eaters to think that you weren’t involved in my escape and to leave you alone.” He paused, trying to gauge Percy’s reaction. When none came, he continued. “I never stopped loving you. I never will.”

Percy felt his face go hot. That had not been the reaction he had expected. He had expected anger, frustration, resentment...but not love. No one ever loved him after he made a mess of things.

Oliver laughed. “Don’t be so surprised,” he said. “ You’re not hard to love.” He leaned in and kissed Percy’s forehead. His skin was cold. It made Oliver shiver.

_ Yes I am _ , Percy thought obstinately, though he didn’t say it. He knew better than to argue with Oliver. It had never ended well. “ Finish your tea before it goes cold,” he said, handing Oliver his mug. It felt awkward because it  _ was _ awkward; Percy couldn’t think of anything to say or do that wasn’t overly formal. He didn’t feel quite comfortable in the tent with Oliver, not just because they were most likely being hunted. He had said a lot of things to the Minister about Oliver that he shouldn’t have, and he was mortified.

“Percy,” Oliver said, “snap out of it.”

“Sorry,” Percy said, looking into his mug.

“What is wrong with you?” Oliver asked.

“I...nothing,” Percy lied. He didn’t want to talk about it. Not now. He didn’t want to overburden Oliver. “Finish your tea,” he said again, “and I’ll make some dinner.” He stood up and crossed the floor to the small table. There were a few cans of vegetables, soup, and chili in the duffel bag. Percy stared at the cans for longer than was necessary before deciding upon chili. With a wave of his wand, the chili was in a pot, perfectly heated. He pulled two bowls from a cupboard and split the chili. He handed one to Oliver and sat down. “Enjoy.”

Oliver ate as though he hadn’t eaten in days.  _ Maybe he hasn’t _ , Percy thought.  _ Maybe they haven’t been feeding him. _ He took a few bites of his chili and found he wasn’t very hungry. He silently offered it to Oliver, who took it without question.

“I’m going to bed,” Percy said suddenly. He didn’t want to talk anymore. He didn’t want to feel horrible anymore. He just wanted to sleep.


	20. Chapter 20

Oliver sat up for several hours, unable to sleep. He was grateful to Percy for rescuing him, of course, but he was also confused. Why was Percy being so standoffish?

_ It’s probably my fault, _ Oliver thought sadly.  _ He’s probably still hurt from what I said to him, and rightfully so. I was awful to him.  _ Oliver tried to sleep, but tossed and turned in his rigid, unyielding camp bed until the wee hours of the morning. 

Percy laid awake until well past midnight. He  reflected on the past several weeks and what he had done. He had almost immediately given in when the Minister had given him a choice.  He was ashamed of himself. He wanted to talk to Oliver; he wanted to  _ be able to _ talk to Oliver, but he didn’t feel like he could.  _ Oliver did what he did to save  _ me, Percy thought,  _ and I did what I did to save myself.  _ That made him feel even more wretched and selfish.  He had spent the last  few weeks giving information to the Death-Eater-run Ministry just to save his own skin,  not thinking about how anyone else might be affected by what he was doing. He hated himself, even more so than usual.

_ I don’t deserve Oliver, _ he thought.  _ He deserves someone stronger; someone better. _ Percy sighed. He would tell Oliver in the morning.

***

Oliver woke after fitful sleep.  He was exhausted, and looked it.  He yawned as he sat up and looked over at Percy, who was still sleeping.

“Perce,” Oliver said loudly, trying to wake him up. “Hey Perce!”

“Mmmph,” grunted Percy.

“Wake up!”

“Don’t wanna. Too tired.”

“Do it anyway.”

Percy opened his eyes and looked over at Oliver.  _ He looks terrible, _ Percy thought.  _ I’m sure I don’t look much better, though. _ He rubbed his eyes and sat up. “What was so important that you had to wake me up?”

“I’m hungry,” Oliver said. “And you know I can’t cook.” He smiled sheepishly.

Percy rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he said, a bit annoyed. “I’ll make breakfast, but we have to talk.”

“After?” Oliver said. “Eat first, talk after?”

Percy rolled his eyes again, this time with an irritated sigh. Oliver knew how to get what he wanted as well as how to get on Percy’s nerves. “ Fine,” Percy said shortly, getting out of bed and choosing another can of chili. Not exactly a proper breakfast, but they didn’t have many options. He heated it quickly and split it into two bowls, handing one to Oliver, who started eating immediately.

“Thanks, Perce,” Oliver said through a large mouthful of chili. He smiled at Percy, who didn’t return the smile. Instead, Percy looked away. Oliver was hurt. He just wanted to mend things with Percy, who didn’t seem interested. He knew he had said horrible things, but he hadn’t _meant_ them. They were meant to save Percy, not to _hurt_ him. He ate his breakfast quickly and set his bowl on the bed beside him, waiting for Percy to finish.

Percy didn’t want to have this conversation with Oliver, but it was necessary. He had to break things off, not only for his sake, but for Oliver’s. Oliver would be better off without him. Better off with someone who hadn’t told secrets to the Minister; better off with someone more his type; better off with someone who could protect him. It broke Percy’s heart to tell him that, but he had to. It was unavoidable, he thought. Everything had to come to an end someday, and this was that end. He set his bowl on the ground next to his feet and clasped his hands on his lap.

“So,” he began nervously. “So.”

“So,” Oliver repeated. “So you wanted to talk. Talk, then.”

“So. I’ve been thinking,” Percy said, purposely avoiding Oliver’s gaze, “and I think we should go our separate ways.” He paused for only half a second before continuing, “It’s the best thing for both of us. I’m no good for you; you deserve someone better than me. You deserve someone stronger, someone more like you.” He took in a deep breath and cast his eyes upwards, waiting for Oliver’s objection. When it didn’t come, he cocked his head to the side, confused.

“Percy,” Oliver said quietly, reaching across to grab the redhead’s hands, “you don’t get to decide what I deserve. What I _want_ is what I deserve. And what I want is you.” He gave Percy a half-smile and squeezed his hands. “I love you, Perce, and you’re all I want. If you left me again, I don’t know what I would do.  I need _you_.”

Percy gave Oliver a dubious look.

“Really,” Oliver continued. “I don’t _care_ what you did or what you said. You did what you did to save yourself.” He paused. “And I said what I said to save you. Don’t you understand, Perce? I would do anything for you. Including going to Azkaban. I was ready to go, just to protect you. Because I love you.” _Ready_ might have been too strong a word, he thought, but if it convinced Percy, it would have to do.

Percy wasn’t sure if he believed Oliver. He wouldn’t forgive himself; in fact, he wasn’t sure if he could. He had betrayed Oliver.  _ He _ didn’t deserve Oliver. He didn’t deserve Oliver’s forgiveness. He felt unwanted tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.  He brushed them away with the back of his hand and looked down. He felt torn. Should he accept Oliver’s forgiveness, or should he continue with his original plan of splitting up? He needed a minute. He stood and left the tent.

“What should I do?” he asked himself, pacing in front of the door. “What do I _want_ to do?” He knew what he _wanted_ – to stay with Oliver until the end of time – but he had to consider Oliver’s safety. Oliver was still a wanted criminal. Being with Percy, who was now probably also  being hunted, would only make Oliver’s life more dangerous. But, he reasoned, he couldn’t make Oliver do anything. He couldn’t _make_ Oliver leave if Oliver didn’t want to. And Percy certainly didn’t want to leave. He would follow Oliver to the ends of the earth if he had to. _I guess that’s decided, then_ , he thought.

Percy re-entered the tent to find that Oliver had done the washing-up and was sitting cross-legged on Percy’s bed. Percy rolled his eyes in mock annoyance. “I just can’t get rid of you, can I?” he said with a small smile, sitting down beside the other man.

“Nope,” said Oliver cheerily. “I’m not going anywhere.” He leaned over and kissed Percy’s cheek. Percy blushed. “Listen,” Oliver continued, a more serious note to his voice, “you’ve shown me you care. What you’ve said doesn’t matter. Your actions do. You’ve saved my life three times now. That matters more to me than any stupid shit you might have said.”

Percy felt his face getting hot. Oliver was right, he knew. But he had only done what anyone would have done. Anyone would have saved the person they loved.  _ I love him _ , Percy thought suddenly.  _ I can’t leave him; I love him. _ He scooted closer to Oliver and rested his head on Oliver’s shoulder. “I suppose you’re right,” he said. “I can’t tell you what to do. I know you won’t listen.” He smiled. “But please listen to me. I will never forgive myself for betraying you to the Minister. Even though it was just an attempt to keep myself safe, I never should have done it. I never should have agreed to it.”

“Shut your ridiculous mouth,” Oliver said. “If you hadn’t, you’d be dead. I’d be mourning my love from a cell in Azkaban instead of sitting with him in a tent in Wales.” He ran his fingers through Percy’s wavy hair. He had forgotten how soft Percy’s hair was, and how good it smelt. “And that’s the last thing I want to do.” _Ever_ , he added mentally.

Percy sighed. Why did Oliver always have to be right? It was infuriating.

“So I can stay?” Oliver asked hopefully. He already knew the answer; he just wanted to hear it from Percy.

“What do you think?” Percy asked, kissing Oliver’s neck.

Oliver shivered. “I think that’s a yes,” he said with a slight moan.  He turned to face Percy and placed his hands on either side of his lover’s face. “ Am I right?”

Percy didn’t answer; he just kissed Oliver passionately.  _ That should be answer enough, _ he thought, losing himself in the kiss. He tangled his fingers in Oliver’s hair, bringing Oliver closer to him. “I want you,” Percy breathed. “I  _ need _ you.”

“Take me, then,” Oliver replied throatily. “Take me however you want me.”

Percy pushed Oliver backwards so he was lying down on the bed and Percy was kneeling above him. Percy looked down at his lover, taking in every inch of his appearance. He really was beautiful, Percy thought.  _ How could I have thought of letting him go? _ “You’re entirely too clothed for my liking,” he said with a sensual smile. “We have to fix that.” He tugged at the hem of Oliver’s t-shirt,  trying to get it over his head. Oliver co-operated wordlessly, lifting his arms as Percy pulled off his shirt.

“Better,” Percy proclaimed, tracing Oliver’s shrunken abdominal muscles with his index finger, “but still too clothed.” He fiddled with the elastic on Oliver’s pyjamas and they slid easily over his narrow hips. Percy saw that Oliver’s erection was tenting in his Y-fronts and he smiled. “Almost perfect,” he said.

“No,” Oliver said breathlessly, “not quite.” He pulled at Percy’s jumper, indicating that he, too, should disrobe. Percy complied, tossing his jumper and pyjamas on the floor. Now all he had left were his pants, same as Oliver. “Better,” Oliver murmured into Percy’s neck, kissing him gently. His hands roamed over Percy’s thin frame, rediscovering every inch of his body. His hands purposely avoided Percy’s groin, wanting to tease him just a bit longer. He pressed his lips to Percy’s and pulled him close. Their tongues met, performing an intricate dance inside Percy’s mouth.

Percy couldn’t wait. His erection was straining at his pants, and he was certain that Oliver’s was, too. He reached down the front of Oliver’s pants and felt  just  _ how _ hard he was. He  grinned as he took Oliver’s  prick in his hand, stroking it roughly.

Oliver gasped.  _ Fuck, _ he thought. It had been too long since he had wanked, and  _ way _ too long since Percy had touched him like that. He pushed his hips upwards, needing, wanting, begging for more.

Percy tugged Oliver’s pants down , allowing  himself  easier access to Oliver’s dripping  cock. He licked the bead of pre-come from the glistening head.  “You taste so good,” Percy told Oliver in a husky voice, licking his lips lasciviously. Oliver shuddered. He loved this side of Percy; the uninhibited sexual monster; the side that was unafraid to ask for what he wanted.

Percy didn’t want to wait; he didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to ask, and he definitely didn’t want to be given permission. He just wanted to take what was  _ his. _ He plunged Oliver’s cock into his mouth, enjoying the velvety hardness between his lips and on his tongue. He tried to take as much as possible without gagging,  but it had been long enough that he was out of practise.  _ I’ll just have to train, then, _ Percy thought wickedly.  _ I’m sure Oliver won’t mind. _

Oliver most certainly  _ didn’t _ mind. This was in his top five best feelings in the world.  He moaned and arched his back, pressing his cock further into Percy’s mouth. “Mmmmm, Perce,” he groaned, “ that feels amazing.” He tangled his fingers in Percy’s hair, pushing Percy’s head further down on his shaft. He wanted this. No, he  _ needed _ it.

To Oliver’s great disappointment, Percy stopped sucking his cock a moment later. Oliver let out a whimper  of displeasure.

“Don’t whinge,” Percy said with a smile. “I’m not finished.” He leaned down and kissed the head of Oliver’s erection, and then kissed Oliver passionately. He didn’t want this to end too soon. If it could last forever, Percy thought, that would be wonderful. He removed his own pants, tossed them on top of Oliver’s, and quickly spoke the preparation spell.

Oliver gasped. “Perce,” he moaned, “fuck me.”  He reached down and started stroking his own cock, needing to feel, to experience sexual sensation immediately.

Percy batted his hand away. “Hands off,” he ordered. “Only I get to do that.”

“Then bloody _do it,_ ” Oliver begged, thrusting his hips toward Percy. “I can’t fucking wait any longer.”

Percy positioned himself at Oliver’s entrance and, at the same time, took firm hold of Oliver’s cock. As he entered Oliver, Percy began stroking Oliver lazily. Gods, this felt amazing. Percy let out an involuntary grunt as he pushed into Oliver again and again, still languidly wanking his lover. He both wanted to climax and not to; he wanted this both to end and to continue indefinitely. It wasn’t just the sex; it was the pure, innocent intimacy that they shared in these moments that made Percy’s heart swell with joy.

“Perce,” Oliver said with urgency, interrupting Percy’s train of thought, “I can’t...I’m...” And not a second later, his cock exploded with spurt after spurt of hot liquid, spraying Percy’s hand, face, and stomach. He came for what seemed like ages; it _had_ been weeks, after all, and that was _much_ too long.

“Merlin, Ollie,” Percy said with a grin. “Where did all _that_ come from?” He pulled out, though he wasn’t finished, and cuddled up next to Oliver. It didn’t matter that he was covered in Oliver’s juices; it didn’t matter (at the moment) that he was still achingly hard; it didn’t matter that they were on the run from the Ministry. What mattered was that they were together, now and forever.

Oliver punched Percy lightly in the shoulder. “Haven’t exactly had a chance to wank, you know, and my boyfriend hasn’t  really  been around.” He kissed Percy, hard, on the lips. “ I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too,” Percy admitted.

“And I’ve missed _this_ ,” Oliver said, reaching down and grabbing hold of Percy’s cock, which was still exceedingly erect.

Percy sighed blissfully. The calluses, however  faded,  on Oliver’s hand felt incredible. “Don’t stop,” he breathed. “Ever.”

“I have to,” Oliver said almost apologetically, “if you want me to suck you off.” He raised an eyebrow and looked at Percy suggestively. He didn’t think Percy would object to his proposition.

“Yesssss,” Percy sighed. “Yes, I do.” His cock was begging for release. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer, especially with Oliver sucking him off.

“Well, lie down, then,” Oliver said, pushing Percy back onto the firm camp bed, “and we can continue.”

Percy obeyed, closing his eyes, feeling Oliver’s hot breath pass over  the head of his prick, causing goosebumps to form at his groin. Momentarily he felt another, better sensation: Oliver’s lips enveloping his length and hands cupping his balls. He let out a long, low moan. Merlin, this was unbelievable. He had almost let this go; he had almost sent Oliver packing.  _ I really am an arse,  _ he thought.

Oliver took Percy in his mouth, relishing the exquisite  firmness of his length. Oliver loved Percy’s cock; it stood so cutely at attention when he was aroused, almost defiant, daring Oliver to touch it and suck it. Oliver needed no encouragement.

Percy groaned loudly. He wasn’t going to last very long. “Ollie,” he moaned. “Ollie, I’m...”

Oliver nodded around Percy’s cock, signalling that he was ready.  What he wasn’t ready for, however, was the sheer amount of ejaculate. He tried swallowing as much as he could, but he started to choke. He had to pull away from Percy in order to clear his throat.

“Sorry,” Percy gasped. “I...I...I didn’t...expect that.”

“Me neither,” said Oliver, expertly licking Percy’s shaft and cleaning off the remaining come. “But I’m not complaining.” He grinned. “I’ll never complain, as long as I’m with you.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO SORRY about the delay! Real life got in the way, and then NaNoWriMo happened... I plan on finishing the whole thing by the end of January!

*** *** *** *** ***

They arrived in the Scottish Highlands, near Hogwarts, on the afternoon of April 30. Oliver wanted to check on his parents, and Percy wanted to surreptitiously check that his youngest sibling was still in one piece. There was something unusual in the air. Neither Percy nor Oliver could place what it was, though. It just felt...strange. The fog hung low over the hills and the air smelt of smoke. That was definitely unusual, Percy thought, slightly concerned, a frown crossing his face.

“Let’s get a bit closer,” Oliver whispered, looking worried. Percy nodded, following close behind.

As they approached the castle, Percy was shocked – no, horrified – by what he saw. Gone were the luscious gardens; in their place were blackened bushes and trees. The grounds no longer looked inviting; instead, it looked positively menacing, as if daring visitors to approach. Percy shuddered unconsciously. This wasn’t the Hogwarts he had known. He was suddenly very worried for his sister. If it was this grim on the outside, what could it possibly be like on the inside?

He looked over at Oliver. His mouth was wide open and his eyes were even wider. He seemed to be just as horrified.

“What _happened_ here?” Oliver breathed. “It’s so...” He couldn’t find the right words. Nothing could describe the feeling of foreboding this gave him.

“Awful? Wretched? Horrible? Depressing?” Percy supplied with a grimace. “I knew the Ministry – and by extension the Death Eaters – had a hand in the goings-on at Hogwarts, but I had no idea to what extent.” His frown deepened. “If I had known...”

“You couldn’t possibly have,” Oliver said in what he hoped was a reassuring tone, though he was secretly slightly annoyed. If Percy had known, why hadn’t he at least _said_ something? _But who would he have told?_ A rational voice piped up. _The Ministry is full of Death Eaters and Death Eater sympathisers. He would have been sent straight to Azkaban – or killed._ Oliver shuddered at the thought. He had come so close to losing Percy on so many occasions – now wasn’t the time to dwell on the past. They had to focus on what was in front of them, which looked like it would take their full attention.

He took Percy’s hand as he inched slightly closer to the castle. He felt cold all over – Dementors. Looking up, he saw the familiar black-cloaked figures surrounding the towers.

“I don’t know if I can, Perce,” Oliver said in a shaky voice, ashamed. The Dementors at his hearing had been very nearly too much for him to handle. He shivered, feeling his blood run cold. He was supposed to be the strong one, wasn’t he? And here he was, frightened as a child, clutching Percy’s hand as if he might float away. He was mortified.

“Ouch, Oliver, you’re hurting me,” Percy complained. “Don’t squeeze so hard.”

Percy couldn’t possibly know how much the Dementors had affected him, could he? Oliver thought not. If he did, he would be more forgiving.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, loosening his grip.

“Look,” Percy whispered. A hooded figure was coming down the path toward them. They quickly ducked behind a large shrub, disappearing out of sight just as the figure reached where they had been standing. Oliver gasped. It was Professor McGonagall. She looked much older than Oliver remembered.

“Professor!” he heard Percy hiss.

She turned her head, looked directly at them, and furrowed her brow. Percy yanked Oliver out of the bushes and in front of Professor McGonagall.

“Mr. Weasley! Mr. Wood!” she exclaimed. “What on _earth_ are you doing here?”

They both began speaking at once.

“My sister...”

“My parents...”

“Your sister, although a bit worse for wear, is fine, Mr. Weasley,” said McGonagall. “Unfortunately, Mr. Wood, I am unable to offer you any information on your parents.”

“A bit worse for wear?” Percy asked, mildly horrified. “What do you mean, Professor?”

“Mr. Weasley, you are aware of the situation at Hogwarts, are you not?”

Percy shook his head.

“Shame. I had thought, seeing that you work – worked? - for the Ministry, you would be informed.” Professor McGonagall paused briefly. “The long and short of it, gentlemen, is that Death Eaters are now running the school. Your sister, Mr. Weasley, along with Mr. Longbottom, Miss Lovegood, Mr. Finnegan, and others, has been deliberately disobeying them.”

Percy rolled his eyes. Of _course_ Ginny would do that. Of course she would disobey direct orders without regard to her own safety.

“She’s very brave, Mr. Weasley,” Professor McGonagall snapped. “You might not think so – you were always more interested in following the rules than what was right – so I don’t expect you to understand.”

Percy flushed a deep crimson, embarrassed. She was right, of course; it just stung to have someone he respected point it out.

“It’s not safe for you two here,” Professor McGonagall continued.

Oliver seemed to find his voice, and spoke up. “If the Death Eaters have taken over the school, why are you leaving, Professor?”

“I’m not _leaving_ , Mr. Wood,” said Professor McGonagall, exasperated. “I am simply taking an evening constitutional.” She winked at them and gestured with her head, indicating they should follow her.

Percy raised an eyebrow at Oliver, who nodded briefly in agreement.

“Wait a moment,” Professor McGonagall said. “Wait until I’ve reached the crest of the hill, and then follow me.”

Percy and Oliver both nodded, and stepped back into the shrubs to wait.

***

It turned out that McGonagall was leading them into Hogsmeade via a little-used path. They ended up near the Hog’s Head, a place Oliver was very familiar with. He had become friendly – or as friendly as one could be – with the proprietor. Oliver had certainly appreciated Aberforth supplying him with enough Firewhisky to drown a hippogriff, and _especially_ appreciated him not passing the information on to his brother.

Upon entering, McGonagall nodded curtly to Aberforth and led Percy and Oliver into a side room.

“You’ll be safe here,” she said, glancing between the two men almost curiously. “As long as you don’t do anything stupid.”

“What do you mean by that?” Percy replied hotly. He glared at Professor McGonagall.

“You know precisely what I mean, Mr. Weasley,” McGonagall responded crisply. “The Death Eaters are not playing. This is not a schoolyard game.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “As I said before, you are not your sister. You are – and always have been – more concerned with following the rules than doing what is right.”

Percy looked at Oliver, whose face was blank.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Professor,” Oliver said suddenly. “I was about to be sent to Azkaban – casualty of the Muggle-born Registration Commission – and Percy broke me out of prison. From what I’ve heard, he also fudged Muggleborns’ genetic records in order to save their lives. So no, Percy is _not_ more concerned with following the rules than doing what’s right.” He glared at her. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we’re going back up to Hogwarts. You may not have faith in Percy, but _I do._ ” Oliver frowned at McGonagall, who looked taken aback. Oliver was certain that almost no one ever contradicted her. He wouldn’t let anyone put Percy down. Not anymore. That had happened all too often when they were younger, and he had stood by, when he (hypothetically) had the power to make it stop as one of the more popular students.

_No matter,_ Oliver thought. _That’s ancient history._

“Come on, Perce,” Oliver said, his glare at McGonagall intensifying. He took Percy’s hand in his, and they left the Hog’s Head, leaving a thoroughly perplexed Minerva McGonagall in their wake.

***

Back at Hogwarts, night had fallen. The charred foliage made the castle look intimidating, and both men shivered as they walked up the path past Hagrid’s hut.

“This isn’t right,” Oliver said in a low voice, gripping Percy’s hand tightly.

Percy nodded.

“No school should be like this. Something has to be done,” Oliver added fervently.

Percy rolled his eyes. “And what do you propose that we do about it? We’re just two people.”

Oliver sighed, a deep, put-upon sigh. “You know, Perce, for being so clever, sometimes you can really be an idiot. There’s not just the two of us. Remember what McGonagall said? About Ginny and the others? That’s at least six, and it’s a damned good start.”

Percy looked sceptical, so Oliver continued. “Nothing ever got done by people hesitating, Perce. Make up your mind: do you want to make a difference, or do you want to hide in the shadows?”

***

In the end, Percy decided that Oliver was right: it _was_ time for him to emerge from the shadows; to stop blindly following the rules and instead do what was right, even if it was hard. That night, the two of them crept down to the Quidditch pitch and slept under the stands. It was chilly, but at least they weren’t out in the open. It wasn’t the safest place – that probably would have been the Hog’s Head – but it would do.

They were both on edge all night. Neither slept very much, every noise stirring them out of an uneasy sleep. They huddled together for warmth and out of fear. What if they were caught? What would happen to them then? Oliver would almost certainly be sent to Azkaban, and Percy...well, neither of them knew. Neither of them wanted to think about getting caught. It was too horrific an idea to even consider.

When the sun rose, the fog still hadn’t lifted, giving the area an eerie feeling. Oliver woke first, feeling his body protest at the less than ideal sleeping conditions. He yawned, and then stretched. He was exhausted and sore. He glanced over at Percy, who was twitching in his sleep.

“Perce?” Oliver whispered. “Perce, love, it’s time to wake up.” He shook Percy’s shoulder gently.

“Mmmmmgggghhhh.”

“Wake up.”

“Ugh.”

“We can’t stay here. It was okay in the dark, but now that the sun is rising, we have to find a better place. Somewhere students won’t go.”

Percy opened his eyes reluctantly. He had slept very little and very badly, and had _just_ fallen into a deep sleep when Oliver had shaken him awake. “But I’m so tired,” he whined. “Can’t I sleep just one more hour?”

“No.”

“30 minutes?”

“No.”

“15 minutes?”

“No.”

“5 minutes?”

“No.”

“An hour?”

Oliver laughed. Percy’s negotiation skills were clearly lacking first thing in the morning.

“Come on, slow coach,” Oliver coaxed. “If you get up now, I’ll get _you_ up later.” He winked at Percy.

_That_ got Percy moving. He sat up, rubbed his sleep-encrusted eyes, and yawned hugely. “I’m exhausted,” he said. “I slept terribly.”

“You and me both,” Oliver agreed, running his fingers through Percy’s messy hair. “But we have to get moving’ find a place where we won’t be spotted.”

“I know the perfect place,” Percy said. “I used to go there to study on sunny days.” He stretched and yawned again. “I’ll show you.” Standing up, he reached for Oliver’s hand and pulled him up. “Come on.”

***

Nearly an hour later, after taking what seemed to be an extremely scenic walk, they arrived in a shady clearing. Oliver had had no idea that it existed...but then, when had he ever been one to go out of his way to revise?

“This was my little sanctuary,” Percy said quietly. “I had peace and quiet; I could revise; and my siblings...” he trailed off, a slight flush creeping up his cheeks.

Oliver nodded. He couldn’t empathise with Percy, of course; they had had vastly different experiences as students, but he could attempt to sympathise. He put an arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders and pulled him close.

“For what it’s worth,” Oliver said, “it’s a nice little place. It’s very relaxing.”  
  
Percy smiled, his cheeks pink with pride. “It served its purpose.” He paused. “And I’m sure we’ll be safe here for the time being.”

“Well then,” Oliver said, a mischievous glint in his eye, “I believe I promised you something. Do you want it now or later?”

Percy raised an eyebrow. “Do you really think I would turn you down?”

“That’s what I thought,” Oliver replied as he leaned in and planted a kiss on Percy’s lips.

Oliver kissed Percy passionately and Percy sighed. He couldn’t get enough of Oliver. He pulled Oliver close, wanting to touch every inch of him, to reacquaint himself with Oliver’s muscular body. He slid a hand under the waistband of Oliver’s trousers, making Oliver shiver.

“Perce,” Oliver breathed.

Before Percy could respond, he heard a rustling in the bushes behind them. He stopped abruptly and pulled his hand out of Oliver’s trousers. Oliver whimpered in protest.

“Shhh!” Percy whispered, putting a finger to Oliver’s lips. “Listen!” He leaned closer to the noise, motioning for Oliver to do the same. Oliver frowned but obeyed. The rustling grew closer and louder, until it was mere inches away. They both sat stock-still, afraid of being discovered.

Seconds later, Luna Lovegood burst into their clearing. She looked around and, seeing Percy and Oliver, cocked her head interestedly. “You’re a Weasley, aren’t you?” she asked Percy curiously, staring dreamily at him.

Percy nodded. “Red hair give it away?” he asked, rolling his eyes. Oliver snorted. He wouldn’t normally be so caustic, but she had interrupted them, and he was annoyed.

She didn’t seem to notice. “And you,” she said, pointing to Oliver, “were the Gryffindor Quidditch captain.” Oliver nodded. _This girl certainly has a knack for stating the obvious_ , Oliver thought.

“You two left school years ago,” Luna continued, as if neither of them were aware. “What are you doing back here?” She stared at the two of them for a length of time that made both of them extremely uncomfortable.

Percy and Oliver exchanged glances. Was it worth it to come up with a lie? Oliver shook his head almost imperceptibly. Percy took that to mean that he oughtn’t lie; that he ought to just tell the truth.

“I work for the Ministry,” Percy said, an air of pompousness creeping into his voice, “and I’ve only just recently learnt about the Death Eaters in the school. They’ve been taking over the Ministry, but I didn’t know they were at Hogwarts, too.” He paused, frowning. “So we’ve – I’ve – come here to check on my sister. Ginny,” he added lamely.

Luna nodded sagely. “She’s been fighting the Death Eaters here, you know,” she said matter-of-factly. “And so have I. And the rest of Dumbledore’s Army.” She said this as if she expected them to know what she was talking about. Their confused expressions showed otherwise.

“What are you on about?” Oliver asked, a hint of irritation in his voice.

“Dumbledore’s Army, of course,” Luna repeated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Harry formed it two years ago to resist Umbridge. Now we’re fighting the Death Eaters in the school.”

Percy felt his stomach drop. His little sister, fighting Death Eaters? She wasn’t even fully qualified! _He_ didn’t feel he was qualified to fight Death Eaters, and he had been out of school for four years!

“You’re worried,” Luna said serenely. “Ginny is a talented witch. She’s gotten injured, of course – the Death Eaters are very strong – but her hexes are brilliant. You should be very proud of your sister.”

Percy would decide that _after_ he saw her – if she was scarred beyond recognition, he planned to forbid her from returning to Hogwarts. _As if she would listen_ , he thought, rolling his eyes internally.

“I reckon Neville’s about reached the Hog’s Head,” Luna continued. Percy realised she must have been talking while he had been considering his sister’s well-being.

“Why?” Oliver asked, now interested.

“Aberforth said it was important,” she answered. With that, she pushed past them, further into the glade. Oliver looked after her curiously. “What an unusual girl,” he said slowly. “I can’t recall ever having met her.”

“Nor can I,” Percy admitted. He thought he remembered Ginny mentioning her once or twice, but that was it. “But she’s confirmed what McGonagall told us – the Death Eaters have taken over the castle, and a group of students, including my sister, are fighting them.” He frowned, worried.

“You want to check on her now, don’t you?” asked Oliver, placing a comforting hand on Percy’s shoulder.

Percy nodded gratefully. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

Oliver shook his head. “I’d like to see what’s become of the school.”

“Thank you,” Percy said with a smile. He stood up and pulled Oliver along with him.

Oliver grinned. “Let’s go, then.” He pushed through the bushes towards the path that led to the castle. He moved quickly and purposefully, ducking behind shrubs whenever he heard footsteps. Once they had to hide for nearly 30 minutes due to an impromptu conversation between two people neither Oliver nor Percy recognised. They couldn’t hear the conversation, unfortunately, though they caught a few words here and there, none of which gave them any useful information.

Finally the pair went their separate ways, and Oliver and Percy shared a relieved look. Taking Percy’s hand, Oliver continued up the path to the castle. They weren’t far away now.

***

They finally reached the castle in the late afternoon. Despite the time and the season, it was as dark as night. They shared a nervous look. This couldn’t be good.

It was Oliver who finally made the move to enter the castle, after what felt like an eternity of staring at the charred facade. What if the inside was the same? What if it was even _worse_? Neither of them wanted to imagine that possibility.

The dank smell hit them as soon as they walked through the heavy door. It never used to smell like mouldy cellar. Oliver shuddered. He was having unpleasant flashbacks to his recent imprisonment. What had happened to the house-elves? Why weren’t they taking care of the castle anymore?

Suddenly they heard footsteps. Heavy footsteps accompanied by what sounded like swirling robes.

“Snape!” Percy hissed, dragging Oliver behind a statue of Bartemius the Baleful. “Quiet!” He held his hand over Oliver’s mouth as the footsteps got closer, louder, more purposeful. Percy held his breath. They couldn’t be discovered; they weren’t supposed to be here! He tried to take in a silent breath and let it out slowly, but it made his nose tickle and he felt a sneeze coming on. _Shit,_ he thought, terrified. _Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up!_

They watched as Snape looked around, seemingly aware of their presence. He seemed to consider checking behind the statues in the entry hallway, but a loud BANG!! from the Great Hall grabbed his attention and he hurried away, long robes swirling behind him.

Percy clapped his hand over his mouth and nose right before a very violent sneeze escaped.

“Shhh,” Oliver scolded. “You’ll get us caught!”

Percy made a face. “Let’s go see what that noise was,” he suggested. He raised a questioning eyebrow at Oliver and started pulling him towards the Great Hall.

While nervous, Oliver was also curious about what was happening. Nothing felt right to him. It all felt a little...off. Uncomfortable, and a little frightening. Like something dangerous was bubbling just under the surface.

Percy darted down the hall, dragging Oliver with him. “Hurry up!” he said urgently. “I want to see what’s happening!”

Oliver’s pace quickened to match Percy’s and they reached the Great Hall moments later. The door was open a crack, and they peered in. What they saw shocked them.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lifted several passages directly from Deathly Hallows for this chapter; I'm certain you'll recognize them!  
> ***

In the centre of the Great Hall were Snape and Harry Potter, face to face.

Percy gasped. Harry Potter! The one person the Ministry couldn’t find, and he was standing mere feet in front of them. Percy felt a strange sense of duty, like he ought to arrest Potter, but he also wanted to see the scene play out. He remembered the terrible animosity between Harry and Snape; it had likely only got worse over the past several years.

Oliver squeezed through the crack in the door. There were enough students in the room that no-one noticed his presence, so he motioned for Percy to join him. When Percy came into the room, he saw, scattered throughout the Great Hall, all of his younger siblings. Fred and George were cocooned among the Gryffindors. Ron was standing with Hermione, behind Harry. Ginny was at the back of the room, with that strange blonde girl they had met earlier; Neville Longbottom; and Finnegan – Percy had forgot his first name. He caught his sister’s eye. She glared. McGonagall was right: she  _was_  a bit worse for wear, but on the whole, she was alright. He sighed. What would it take for her – and the rest of his family – to forgive him?

Sparks flew in front of them. Now was not the time to contemplate family relationships; clearly there was about to be a duel. Percy didn’t like Harry’s chances; Snape was a teacher and had been a Death Eater. Was he still? Percy wondered, looking from Harry to Snape and back again. Percy’s heart was pounding. He was terrified. He didn’t want to watch Harry die.

Neither, it seemed, did McGonagall, who stepped in front of Harry to duel Snape. Snape’s anger deepened and he shot spell after spell at McGonagall, who deflected and returned them deftly.

“Severus!” called a raspy voice. Percy looked for the source and saw a chubby, sallow woman whose face was marred by scars. “Severus, the Dark Lord awaits! We have no more time to waste on this pathetic child!”

Snape glared at the large woman but stepped away from Harry, towards the exit. He gestured to another pale, round man with pockmarked cheeks, seemingly indicating that he should follow, which he did, as did the sallow woman. Percy looked over at Oliver, who looked horrified.

“I never imagined it could have got this bad,” Oliver murmured. “This is way worse than I’d expected.” Percy nodded solemnly. He was frightened. He hadn’t felt this way since he’d had to rescue Oliver from his cell. This, however, had further-reaching implications. If You-Know-Who succeeded… Percy shuddered. He couldn’t imagine what would happen if that occurred.

“Students,” McGonagall began, surveying the large crowd. “Students, you are to follow the instructions of your Head of House.”

Just then, there was a loud clap, almost like thunder, and a booming, cold voice filled the Great Hall.

“I know that you are preparing to fight.” A chill ran down Oliver’s spine. It felt like the voice was coming from inside his head. “Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood.”

_Bullshit,_ thought Oliver with terrified disdain.

“Give me Harry Potter,” the voice continued, “and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter, and you will be rewarded.”

A pause.

“You have until midnight.”

A Slytherin girl Oliver didn’t recognise stood up and pointed at Harry. “But he’s there! Potter’s _there!_ Someone grab him!”

Before anyone could speak, there was a massive movement. The Gryffindors had risen and stood facing not Harry but the Slytherins. Then the Hufflepuffs stood, and almost at the same moment, the Ravenclaws, all of them with their backs to Harry, all of them looking toward the Slytherin girl instead.

“Thank you, Miss Parkinson,” said McGonagall in a clipped voice. “You will leave the Hall first with Mr. Filch. If the rest of your House could follow.”

Oliver caught Percy’s eye and grinned. Finally, the Slytherins getting their comeuppance.

“Mr Wood!” McGonagall said sharply. “You take the Quidditch team. You will lead the aerial assault.” Oliver nodded and surreptitiously squeezed Percy’s hand.

“See you soon,” Percy whispered, returning the gesture as Oliver walked away purposefully.

Moments later Percy found himself surrounded by his siblings. _Here it comes,_ he thought miserably.

“What are _you_ doing here?” Ginny asked angrily. “Shouldn’t you be supporting the Ministry?” She glared at him.

“I was wrong,” Percy admitted readily. It wasn’t as hard the second time. “I made a big mistake siding with the Ministry over my own family.” He searched his siblings’ faces for any change in emotion. He thought he saw a flicker of forgiveness in Ron’s face, so he plowed ahead. “If you want to know, I’ve been defying the Ministry for nearly a year, forging family trees for Muggle-borns and half-bloods.” He paused, noticing a change in all of his siblings’ demeanours. Their gazes had softened, and George’s jaw had dropped. “Yes,” he affirmed, “I broke the rules.” He grinned. “Honestly, after the first hearings, I knew what they were doing was wrong and I had to stop it any way I could. I was too ashamed to come home.”  
  
It was Fred who spoke first. “Glad to have you back, Head Boy,” he said with a grin. George echoed the sentiment, and Ron and Ginny nodded.

Percy felt an overwhelming sense of relief. He had expected to be crucified by his siblings. And perhaps it was what he deserved. But he was thankful for their forgiveness, and he wouldn’t take it for granted.

“Thank you,” Percy said gratefully. He felt awkward. What was he meant to do now? Fortunately, the twins seemed to have a purpose, as they always did. He followed his siblings to an entryway, where they were met by the rest of their family. When Molly Weasley saw Percy, she nearly fainted from a combination of joy and shock. “Percy!” she exclaimed gleefully, reaching out and pulling him into a hug so tight, Percy could swear he heard several ribs crack.

“Mum,” Percy protested weakly, “I can’t breathe!”

She ignored him, saying, “It’s so _good_ to see you, dear,” finally releasing him as he gasped for air theatrically. Percy coughed violently and saw his brothers laugh. He shot them a nasty look and they only laughed harder.

“Mum,” Percy said again, “I’m sorry. I was an arse. I - “ At that moment, a cavalcade of spells came flying toward them. Percy glanced up and saw the Minister for Magic, Pius Thicknesse, flanked by his deputies Rookwood and Yaxley.

“Duck!” Arthur shouted, shooting a shield charm in front of the family.

“Molly, you take Ginny upstairs!” Arthur hissed, ignoring Ginny’s whispered protests. “I’ll stay down here with the boys.” Ron had already disappeared, as had Hermione. Molly and Ginny ran after Kingsley Shacklebolt, who had shot some type of curse at Yaxley and sent him flying backwards. Fire flashed in Thicknesse’s eyes and he charged forward, wand raised.

“Minister!” Percy called, finding strength he didn’t know he had. “So very good to see you!” Where this sudden burst of confidence was coming from, he didn’t know. He shot a spell at the minister, who volleyed it right back to him. “Did I mention I’m resigning?”

He heard Fred roar with laughter, and suddenly the sound was cut short. Percy whipped his head around and saw Fred fall to the ground like a rag doll. Furious, with a murderous rage, Percy sent a killing curse at Rookwood. He didn’t _care_ that he could be penalised for it. It was _his_ fault that Fred was dead. _He_ had distracted Fred.

Then he turned his attention to the Minister. “ _Crucio!_ ” Percy shouted. He took dark pleasure in the curse. It frightened him how much he enjoyed it. “ _Avada Kedavra_!” The Minister collapsed in a pile next to Rookwood, and Percy’s spell was broken. He turned and saw George crumpled over his twin’s body, and he couldn’t stay. He couldn’t watch George’s grief unfold. He couldn’t share his own grief. He had to release it privately. He left the entry hall and ducked into a destroyed classroom. Here Percy saw several more bodies on the floor. They all looked much too young to be Death Eaters – he assumed they had been students.

Percy slid down the wall and rested his head in his hands. Fred was dead. Fred. His brother. George’s twin. And _he_ was responsible. If he hadn’t made Fred laugh, Fred would still be alive. Percy closed his eyes and sighed. He couldn’t do _anything_ right. He couldn’t maintain a relationship with his family, he couldn’t maintain a proper romantic relationship, and now he couldn’t even keep his family members alive. He hated himself. He hated his pride, his arrogance, his inflated ego. He hated everything about himself.

“It should have been me,” he muttered. “It should have been me.” He took in a ragged breath. “I don’t deserve to be alive.” Tears were rolling down his cheeks now, but he didn’t notice. He had abandoned his family – in favour of the Death-Eater-supporting Ministry – and look what it had got him. A dead brother. A broken family. He squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t face his family. _Especially_ not George. He couldn’t deal with their disappointment, anger, consternation… He didn’t think anyone would understand him. Not even Oliver. He sighed and, for the first time, noticed the tears on his face. He sniffled and wiped them away.

***

Oliver first noticed Percy was missing when he saw the Weasleys huddled together. He scanned the cluster of gingers and didn’t see the familiar curls.

_Where could he have gone?_ Oliver wondered. He didn’t have much time to think about it, thought, as the high-pitched voice rang through the room once again.

“You have fought valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery.”

Pause.

“Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste. Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat immediately. You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured.”

Oliver’s gaze returned to the Weasleys. Injured? He hoped so.

“I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman, and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour.”

Oliver shivered. He needed to find Percy. He needed to know Percy was okay.

***

Percy curled up in a ball, knees to his chest, and closed his eyes. If he squeezed them tightly enough, maybe he could forget it ever happened. Maybe he could reverse time and make it so Fred was still alive and he was dead instead. He heard a door creak behind him and he fought the instinct to turn around. He didn’t want to see anyone. He didn’t want to talk to anyone.

“Perce?”

Oliver. Percy didn’t answer. He felt his heart in his throat. He didn’t know if he was elated that Oliver had made the effort to find him in the ruins of the castle or annoyed that he had to talk to someone.

Oliver tried again, this time approaching his boyfriend. “Perce?” he asked tentatively. Something must really be wrong for Percy to be completely ignoring him. He placed his hand on Percy’s shoulder. Percy winced. Oliver frowned. This was _very_ unlike Percy.

“What’s wrong, love?” Oliver asked gently, taking a seat on the floor beside Percy. He put his arm around Percy’s shoulders and pulled Percy close. He felt Percy rest his head on his chest, and soon Oliver’s jumper was wet with tears. Oliver didn’t know what to do. He never knew how to react when people cried. He had never been much of a crier. So he held Percy tightly, rubbed his back, and let him cry. _If he wants to talk_ , Oliver reasoned, _he’ll say something._

Presently Percy spoke. In a shaky, shuddering voice, he said, “It should have been me.”

Oliver furrowed his brow, confused. “What are you talking about?”

How could Oliver not know what Percy had done? Percy was flummoxed.

“Fred...” Percy began, and then broke down again.

_So that’s why the Weasleys were in a huddle,_ Oliver thought grimly. In the back of his mind, he had known their side would suffer losses, but it hadn’t really registered. He had, of course, heard about the losses in the First Wizarding War, but… _But what?_ he scolded himself. _But nothing! No-one is invincible! Of course people were going to die! It just happened to be...well...Fred Weasley. Along with, I’m sure, hundreds of others._ He frowned. How would they – the wizarding world – and he and Percy – recover from this?

“No,” said Oliver decisively.

“No what?” Percy asked weakly, looking up at Oliver, cheeks stained with tears.

“No, it _shouldn’t_ have been you,” Oliver clarified. “If it hadn’t been Fred - “ Percy grimaced “ - it would have been somebody else.” Oliver saw a burst of rage in Percy’s eyes and he hurried to explain. “What I mean is,” he continued, “the Death Eaters are hell-bent on killing people. And they don’t care _who_ they kill or how they do it.” He paused, hoping he was getting through to Percy. “I didn’t mean to minimise Fred’s death, not at all. I just wanted to try and explain that the Death Eaters would probably kill their own parents if You-Know-Who told them to.” He frowned. But it wasn’t fair. Despite his mischievous ways, Fred Weasley had been one of the kindest, most thoughtful people Oliver had ever known. Why _couldn’t_ it have been someone else? Snape? Or any number of Slytherins?

Percy nodded mutely. This made sense, but emotion was overcoming logic.

“Tell me what happened,” Oliver coaxed gently, lightly rubbing Percy’s shoulder.

So Percy recounted the horrific story. He felt it made him look like an awful brother, son, human being. He couldn’t see his way through to reconciling with his family now. _And why would they want to, anyway?_ , he thought miserably. _It’s all my fault._

“I distracted Fred,” Percy finished, “and that’s how Rookwood got him. If I hadn’t said anything...” He looked into the distance, letting his sentence trail into nothingness.

“You _can’t_ blame yourself, Perce,” Oliver said firmly. “Knowing – having known – Fred, I’m sure he wouldn’t want you to.” He pulled Percy closer. “You should – _we_ should – be with your family right now. They need you, and you need them.” _Desperately_ , Oliver thought, looking sadly at Percy’s shaking shoulders. “Come on.” He pulled a reluctant Percy to a standing position and, once again with his arm around Percy’s shoulders, led Percy back to the Great Hall, where they had been laying out the dead bodies.

Once they entered, they headed for the gaggle of gingers near the back. Percy shrunk against Oliver, terrified.

It was Molly who noticed them first. Understanding dawned on her face. _That_ was why Percy couldn’t keep a girlfriend. _That_ was why he spent so much time away from the family – he thought they would disapprove. Well, Molly thought, now was hardly the time to be judging her child’s lifestyle. One of her sons was _dead_ , for Merlin’s sake – if Percy wanted to return to the fold, she would welcome him with open arms.

“Mum...” Percy started tentatively, almost expecting her to lash out at him, to blame him, to banish him to a far corner of the globe. Instead, she held her arms out. Aghast, Percy hesitated.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Percy!” Oliver said, exasperated. He pushed his boyfriend into Molly’s waiting arms. Percy stumbled but didn’t fall.

“Oh, Percy,” Molly said, her voice breaking. She held her middle son tightly. He had always closed himself off, pretended he didn’t need anyone. Molly had always thought differently. He was delicate and easily disappointed. He worked hard because he expected a lot of himself as well as others. He was her serious son, her quiet one. The one she could always count on. Until the falling-out.

Then things had been tense. Painful. She had missed her reliable boy. She wished that it hadn’t taken the death of his brother to bring him back, but Percy was hard-headed, like his father. He wouldn’t apologise if he thought he was right.

“Oh, Percy,” she said again, at a rare loss for words. She hugged her wisp of a son tightly. _He’s too thin,_ she thought briefly. _I need to fatten him up._

Percy collapsed into his mother’s arms. He had forgotten how comforting she could be. “I’m...” he sniffled.

“I know,” Molly said soothingly, rubbing his back gently. “It’s not your fault.” Deep in her heart of hearts, though, she thought she was lying to him.

_But it is,_ Percy thought. _You weren’t there._ He didn’t verbally contradict her.

Oliver stood awkwardly by, on the outskirts of a raw, painful Weasley family moment, not sure where (or if) he belonged. He looked at Percy, enveloped in his mother’s arms. He turned his attention to the family huddle, his heart breaking again at the sight of five sets of shaking shoulders. He couldn’t imagine George’s pain. He didn’t _want_ to. Instead, he looked at the ground. He kicked a piece of rubble with his toe and it bounced across the floor. He ground his left toe into the floor.

Oliver was impatient. He knew it was inconsiderate – the Weasleys had just lost a family member, after all – but what was he, an interloper, supposed to do?

He tapped a still-sobbing Percy on the shoulder.

“Love,” Oliver said quietly, so only Percy could hear, “I’m going to see if anyone else needs help.” Percy nodded. “If you need me...” Oliver pulled out the button that had saved his life. He hoped Percy had his too.

Percy nodded. Smiled. Pulled out his button. “Be safe.”

Oliver nodded. He hated to leave Percy when he was so vulnerable, but he would be safe with his family.


	23. Chapter 23

“Mum, I’m so sorry,” Percy said when he regained his ability to form sentences. “About everything. About the row, about dad, and...” He couldn’t bring himself to say it. He knew it was his fault, but if he said it again, that would make it real. It would mean Fred was really gone. Percy wasn’t prepared for that.

“And?” Molly prompted gently.

“And...and...” Percy stammered anxiously. “Andit’smyfaultFredisdeadIdistractedhimifIhadn’topenedmybigmouthhe’dstillbeali-hi-hi-hi-hi-hiiiiiiive.” The last syllable came out in a loud, hiccupping sob.

It took Molly a second to process what Percy had said. Did he really blame himself for Fred’s death? It could have happened to anybody. She hesitated before responding. In her heart of hearts, maybe she blamed him. Maybe a little bit. But she couldn’t tell her broken boy that she laid some of the blame at his feet. He already blamed himself. “It’s not your fault,” she fibbed, holding him tighter. “It will never be your fault. No one believes it’s your fa-”

George whirled around, eyes red-rimmed, a vicious snarl on his face.

“I bloody well do,” he snapped. “If you had just left us well enough alone, he would still be alive.” He glared at his older brother, who shrunk against their mother. “But you had to try to make amends. During a bloody WAR! You’re nothing but a selfish prat.” He turned back to his twin’s lifeless corpse, leaving Percy slumped in Molly’s arms.

Percy reached into his pocket. If there was ever a time he needed Oliver, it was now. His hand closed on the button. _Please be fast,_ he begged.

***

Oliver had Colin Creevey’s lifeless body in his arms when he felt his pocket burning. Percy. But he couldn’t go, not now – there was still so much left to do. He surveyed the damage with dismay. He was needed here. With a heavy heart, he ignored the heat against his thigh and laid Colin’s tiny corpse next to Remus Lupin.

Oliver’s heart was breaking. So many people had died, and for what? A ridiculous grudge an arsehole held against a child. He scowled. He gently closed Colin’s eyes and smoothed his pale blond hair.

_There_ , he thought sadly. _He could be sleeping._

His pocket burnt again. _Patience_ , he thought. He would work as quickly as was prudent.

***

When Oliver wasn’t immediately by his side, Percy was distraught. _If he needed me, I would be there,_ he thought, upset. _I abandoned my entire life to save him._ In the back of his mind, he knew he was being selfish. Oliver was needed elsewhere. _But I want him!_ his brain protested. _He’s mine!_ He tried to drown those thoughts out with thoughts of his family.

_What am I going to do?_ he worried. _How am I going to redeem myself?_ **Could** he redeem himself? If George blamed him, he was certain the rest of his siblings did, too. And his mother was lying to spare his feelings. Well, he didn’t need that. He wanted honesty.

“Mum,” he said suddenly, rubbing his eyes violently.

“Yes, petal?”

“Mum, tell me the truth,” he said, a note of anger in his voice. “Do you blame me for...” Pause. Deep breath. “...for Fred’s death?”

Molly hesitated. How could she possibly tell her son, her sweet, delicate boy, that yes, she laid part of the blame on his shoulders? And that even though that was the case, **she forgave him**. Because that was what family did. And he hadn’t done it on purpose.

Her hesitation was damnation enough. “I can’t believe my own mother blames me, too!” Percy exclaimed. “When I never meant to do anything wrong!” He blinked back a fresh round of tears. “I don’t need this.” He extricated himself from his mother’s embrace and stalked out of the room, a scowl on his face.

Percy was conflicted. He blamed himself, of course – he was **always** harder on himself than anyone else was – but for his own mother to blame him? That was a dagger through his fragile heart. Next he would find out that Oliver blamed him, too. He wouldn’t be able to handle that.

But where could he go? The castle was in ruins. There were few, if any, places to properly be alone. Percy frowned. He looked left, then right. There was an open door about fifteen metres down the hall to his right. That would have to do.

Upon arrival, he discovered it was a disused classroom. The desks were stacked against the wall – or they had been; currently a large amount of them were in pieces, scattered throughout the room – and the shelves were empty. He took a seat at the front of the room and surveyed the wreckage.

What would happen to Hogwarts now? Surely students would have to be shipped off to Beauxbatons or Durmstrang while the castle was rebuilt. Percy shook his head. He couldn’t imagine the massive undertaking. And the restructuring of the Ministry… he wasn’t sure he wanted to be involved in that anymore. He had made so many life-altering ( _and life-ending_ , he thought grimly) mistakes; he didn’t think he could handle the stress.

Percy reached for his button again. Where was Oliver? Percy **desperately** needed him now. He needed someone to talk to; someone to comfort him. He needed Oliver to tell him that it wasn’t his fault.

***

For the second time in thirty minutes, Oliver felt his pocket burn. He frowned. Looking around, it seemed that most of the heavy lifting had been done; all that remained was to treat the injured. Despite Oliver’s impressive history of injuries, he was hopeless with healing spells. He supposed he could duck out and find Percy. Percy clearly needed him – Oliver would comb the entire castle to find him if need be.

Fortunately that wasn’t necessary. Oliver found him just down the hall, resting his chin in the palm of his left hand, a grim look on his face.

“Perce,” Oliver said gently, causing Percy’s eyes to flicker upwards.

“Where have you been?” Percy said almost accusingly. “You said you would come when I needed you.” A sob escaped his lips and he clapped his hand over his mouth. He wanted to be angry right now; crying wouldn’t help his case.

“I’m sorry,” Oliver said simply. “I was needed to transport the dead.” He set his mouth in a line. Surely Percy couldn’t be so selfish as to begrudge him that. Oliver pressed on. “Remember the Creevey brothers?” Percy nodded. “Dead.” Percy gasped.

“But...but...” he stammered. “They’re not – they weren’t of age. How – why were they allowed to fight?”

Oliver shook his head. “Allowed had nothing to do with it. I reckon they snuck back in after being taken out by Filch. There was a deep sadness in his eyes, Percy noticed. He wondered if he looked the same. “Come here,” Percy said, motioning for Oliver to sit beside him.

Oliver hadn’t realised how exhausted he was until he sat down. He rested his head on Percy’s shoulder.

“They were so tiny,” Oliver said, his voice breaking. “They had so much more **living** to do.” Percy put his arm around Oliver’s shoulders. “It’s not fair. They were just kids. Just little kids.” Percy didn’t have an answer for this. He was grappling with his own issues of fairness and blame. It wasn’t fair that Fred was gone, either. He had been so energetic and full of life. What was going to happen to George? To his family? They had only just moments before forgiven him. Now he was back on their blacklist.

_Deservedly so_ , he thought miserably. Percy was vacillating between needing to be blamed and wanting redemption. It was easy enough for him to blame himself. He blamed himself for many things often enough. It was rare, however, that other people blamed him for anything, even when he openly admitted fault. Percy frowned. He wanted to support Oliver in his time of need, but he could hardly keep himself together.

_We can prop each other up_ , he thought. _Somehow._

Percy felt Oliver’s shoulders shudder and he realised Oliver was crying. Oliver _never_ cried. “Ollie,” Percy said gently, “I know it’s not fair. None of this is. But I don’t know what we can do. We _tried_ fighting. Look what it got us: just injuries and death.” He paused and tenderly wiped the tears from Oliver’s cheeks. “I hate to sound clichéd, but war isn’t the answer. We have to be bigger...better than that. We have to fight using the law. Put all of the Death Eaters in Azkaban, and ensure that they all get the Dementor’s Kiss.”

“But is that **enough**?” Oliver asked, sniffling and wiping his nose with his sleeve. “We should be able to do more. Kids shouldn’t be dying at school.” He sighed. It wasn’t right.

“I know. But what else can we do? It all comes down to who the new Minister is, and how the Ministry is restructured after the dust settles.”

Percy shrugged, dismissing the conversation. He knew it would go round in circles until they both were exhausted – more so than they already were – and had nothing new to offer. He didn’t want to discuss it any further. He wanted to sit and contemplate his own problems.

Fortunately, Oliver took the hint and stopped talking. He leaned into Percy and rested his head on the smaller man’s shoulder. It wasn’t very comfortable. Percy was bony. However, Percy’s warmth, his heartbeat, his steady breathing comforted him. Just the fact that he was there comforted Oliver.

“Let’s go,” Percy said suddenly, surprising Oliver.

“Go where?”

“Away. Away from here, away from the Ministry, away from all of this.”

Oliver shook his head. “We can go _home_ ,” he said slowly, “but we can’t escape this. You can’t escape your family.”

Percy reddened. How had Oliver known? “That’s not...that’s not what I meant,” he lied.

It was, and Oliver knew it, but he wasn’t going to press the issue. He would deal with it – _they_ would deal with it – when their wounds weren’t so fresh.

***

They arrived at Percy’s flat in the early morning. London looked untouched. Muggles – the ones awake and going about their business at 4:19am – were blissfully unaware of the deadly battle that had just taken place.

_And in large part for their protection_ , thought Percy bitterly.

“I want to sleep for a week,” Oliver announced as they walked through the door. “Will you feed me intravenously so that can happen?”

Percy rolled his eyes. Oliver’s laziness knew no bounds. “Good luck with that,” he replied, feigning annoyance. He didn’t even take off his shoes before collapsing into bed. Percy hadn’t slept in a real bed in what felt like half a lifetime. “Come to bed,” he called to Oliver, who was scrutinising a deep cut on his face in the mirror. “D’you think this will scar?” he asked Percy almost worriedly.

Yawning, Percy replied, “I’ll fix it in the morning. You won’t even n...” Before he could finish his sentence, he was asleep. Oliver smiled in the mirror. He was worried about Percy. He knew Percy blamed himself, and he was worried that Percy’s family blamed him, too – Percy hadn’t told him.

_But I didn’t ask, either,_ Oliver thought guiltily.

He yawned. He couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer, so he climbed into bed next to a now-snoring Percy.

“Sleep well, my love,” Oliver whispered before he closed his eyes and drifted off.

***

In Percy’s nightmares, he relived the moment of Fred’s death over and over again. He saw it in slow motion; watched the spark leave his eyes; saw him fall, lifeless, to the ground. Every time, Percy tried to change it. Every time, he failed. His feet were nailed to the floor. His arms were weighted down with bricks. His voice had been taken from him. Something was _always_ wrong. He could _never_ save Fred. He was even a failure in his dreams.

Oliver’s dreams weren’t much better. He saw the Creevey brothers, splayed out in the entry hallway where he had found them. He saw their glassy eyes staring at him accusingly. He could swear he heard them screaming. Oliver woke up more than once drenched in sweat. After the third time, he decided sleep was more stressful than it was restful and carefully climbed over a twitching, mumbling Percy. He stood over his boyfriend for a moment, wondering if Percy’s dreams were as horrifying as his own.

Oliver padded into the kitchen and put the kettle on. His mum had always made him tea when he was upset and it had made him feel better; maybe it would work now.

Presently the kettle whistled and Oliver poured his tea. He sat at the kitchen table, one leg folded under him, teacup grasped tightly in both hands. Oliver sighed deeply. Though he was in a great amount of pain, he couldn’t imagine the guilt Percy must be feeling. _Even though it’s clearly not his fault_ , Oliver thought for what must have been the millionth time. _Death Eaters will kill people regardless. It doesn’t matter who they are or if they’re young or old._ He took a sip of his tea. It warmed him from the inside out. _How can I help him see that?_ Oliver had no idea.

***

Percy woke alone. For a moment, he was frightened. Why was he alone? Where was Oliver? His heart was racing. Why did Oliver leave? Why would Oliver leave him alone when he was so vulnerable?

Then he heard a slight cough from the kitchen. His heartbeat slowed down and he sighed, relieved. He had got himself worked up over nothing. He yawned, pushed the duvet back, and swung his legs out of bed, his feet hitting the chilly parquet with a gentle _thud_. He shivered. It was May, for Merlin’s sake – why did it feel like November in his flat? He shuffled to the kitchen, arms crossed tightly across his chest in a weak attempt to keep himself warm. He shivered anyway.

“Tea?” Oliver offered. “Not sure if it’s still warm, but I can reheat it.”

Percy nodded gratefully.

“Settle in on the sofa, then. I’ll make you a cuppa.” Oliver grinned at Percy and playfully smacked his bum as he walked past. Percy laughed. It felt good, freeing, to laugh. But he also felt guilty: Fred would never be able to laugh again, and he was to blame. Percy pushed that thought to the back of his mind. _Not now,_ he told himself.

Percy sat cross-legged on the threadbare sofa and pulled an old crocheted afghan over him. He closed his eyes. What was he going to do? His old job certainly didn’t exist anymore, and even if it did, he wasn’t sure he would want it. He wasn’t sure he wanted to work for an institution that was so easily corrupted. But what would he do for work, then, if not government work? That was all he knew, all he was good at.

“Knut for your thoughts?” Oliver said, handing him his tea and interrupting his argument with himself.

Percy shook his head. “It’s not important,” he said, taking the tea and forcing a smile.

Oliver raised an eyebrow dubiously but didn’t press the issue. Percy would talk about it when – or if – he was ready. Pushing him only made him withdraw further. He sat on the sofa next to Percy and pulled a corner of the afghan over his lap.

“Sleep well?” Oliver asked, though he already knew the answer.

Percy shook his head. “Nightmares all night,” he admitted.

“Me too.”

Percy leaned into Oliver. “It was horrible,” he said softly. “I saw him die over and over, and I was powerless. I couldn’t even save him in my dreams.” He sniffled. _I’m not going to cry_, he thought resolutely. He didn’t think he had any more tears in him, anyway.

Oliver pulled Percy in as close as he could. “It’s **not your fault** ,” he said firmly. “Don’t blame yourself.”

“I can’t help it,” Percy replied. “What if...”

Oliver stopped him. “You can ‘what if’ yourself to death, but it won’t change anything. All you can do,” he said, rubbing Percy’s thigh comfortingly, “is try to come to terms with his death.” _And stop blaming yourself,_ he thought. _Please. For your own mental health._

Percy pursed his lips. “I’ll try,” he finally said. “But my family...” He trailed off, looking at the floor

“What about them?” Oliver probed gently.

Percy sighed deeply. “ **They** blame me,” he said sadly. “Even my mum.”

Oliver was taken aback. How could Mrs. Weasley feasibly blame Percy for something over which he had no control? “She can’t...that’s not...” he sputtered, unable to believe what Percy had said.

Percy frowned but nodded, depressed. “She does,” he replied gloomily. “She all but told me, after George outright shouted at me for killing Fred. I...I can’t believe my mum, my own mum, blames me too.” He blinked back the hot tears threatening to fall.

Oliver was horrified. He couldn’t believe it either. Percy must have misunderstood, he reasoned. Mrs. Weasley would _never_ blame him for something so obviously beyond his control.

Oliver decided to change tack. “Will you go to your...Fred’s...funeral?” he asked almost hesitantly. He didn’t know if the question would set Percy off again.

Percy looked contemplative, as though the idea hadn’t occurred to him.

“If I’m invited,” he said finally, “I reckon I will.”

“Why in the name of Merlin’s saggy grey pants wouldn’t you be invited?” Oliver frowned. Percy didn’t think very highly of himself. “You’re family; of _course_ you’ll be invited. Don’t be daft.”

Percy’s face felt hot. He wasn’t embarrassed; he was ashamed. Ashamed of not just his words or his actions, but himself. “I’ll try,” Percy said slowly. “Will you come with me?”

Oliver felt his heart breaking for Percy. It was clear that he was beating himself up for something that no one could change. Oliver wished that he could make it better. He wished that he could turn back time. He would do anything for Percy.

“Of course,” Oliver replied. “I wouldn’t make you go alone.”

At that moment, they heard a tapping at the window. Both men turned their heads at the same time to see Errol, the ancient Weasley family owl.

“Oh Merlin,” Percy moaned. “There it is.”

“I’ll get it,” Oliver said in a soothing tone. “Finish your tea.” He stood, set his mug on the table, and strode purposefully to the window. He opened the window and Errol collapsed, exhausted, on the inside sill. Oliver pulled a rolled-up piece of parchment from the strap attached to the owl’s leg and opened it.

“You were right, Perce,” he said. “Funeral.”

Percy sighed. It was something. At least his family hadn’t _completely_ cut him out. He imagined the invitation was his mum’s doing; if George had had his way, Percy would have been banished. “When?”

“Saturday,” Oliver said. “In...” he paused, thinking. “Two days.”

How was Percy going to keep himself together for two days? How was he going to keep himself together at the funeral, for that matter? He sighed for what was probably the twentieth time that day. He would have to rely on Oliver.

“You’ll make it,” Oliver said, seemingly reading his mind. “I’ll be by your side the whole time.”  
  
Percy hoped that would be enough.


	24. Chapter 24

Saturday came much faster than Percy had hoped it would. It dawned grey and depressing, the weather matching his mood.

“I don’t want to go anymore,” he mumbled to no-one in particular. “I can’t; I’m not strong enough.”

“Mmmmph?” came Oliver’s reply from underneath his pillow.

“I don’t want to go anymore,” Percy said again, pulling the pillow off Oliver’s head and tossing it aside. The way Oliver looked was almost comical. His hair, which needed a trim (though Percy secretly liked it a bit shaggy; it was much easier to hold onto when Oliver was fucking him. And besides, it made him look rogueish, which made Percy’s heart beat faster), stuck out every which way. There were lines from the folds of the sheet on his cheek, and his eyes were encrusted with sleep. Percy couldn’t help but let a small chuckle escape.

“Mmmmph...” Oliver groaned. “S’not funny. ‘m tired.” He yawned theatrically as if to prove his point.

“Yes, yes, I can see that,” Percy said with an overdramatic eye roll. “But you’ve got to wake up. Today’s the...” He couldn’t bring himself to say it. If he said it, that meant there was absolutely no change of Fred coming back, and he wasn’t ready for that. He din’t know if he could handle the day.

Oliver sobered. In his tired state, he had forgotten. He wasn’t sure what to expect. Would Percy break down again? _Almost definitely,_ he thought. But how would the rest of the Weasleys react to Percy’s – and his, for that matter – presence? _Well,_ Oliver thought hopefully, _they_ _ **invited**_ _him. They wouldn’t have invited him if he wasn’t welcome._ But Oliver wasn’t so sure. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley would be cordial, at least, but Percy’s siblings...that was what Oliver was worried about. He didn’t know if Percy could shoulder any more blame.

“Now, what were you saying?” he asked Percy.

Percy hesitated.

“Come on,” Oliver said. “I know you said something.” He rested his hand on Percy’s shoulder.

“I don’t want to go anymore,” Percy said reluctantly. “I...I can’t.” He looked at his lap, ashamed.

“Percy Weasley, you are going to this funeral,” Oliver said firmly. “He was – is – your brother. You must go. Your family – at least your parents – expect you to be there.” He rubbed Percy’s shoulder comfortingly. He couldn’t imagine the pain Percy was feeling. He wanted to be able to blink his eyes and take all of it away.

“You’re right,” Percy said, “but it’s still...” He trailed off and waved with his right hand. Whatever that meant, Oliver didn’t know. He didn’t ask; he didn’t want Percy to start the day off worked up.

“I know,” Oliver replied, though he obviously didn’t. “But I’ll be with you the whole time. I won’t leave your side.” He kissed Percy’s cheek chastely.

Percy shivered. How did he get so lucky? He drew in a deep breath. “Okay,” he said slowly, after several minutes of thought. “I reckon...I reckon we’d ought to get ready, then.”

***

When they’d both showered and dressed, there was only half an hour until the funeral.

“I suppose we’d better...” Percy said awkwardly.

Oliver nodded. “You first – it’s your family.”

Percy grimaced. Oliver was right, but he didn’t _want_ to go first. “Hurry,” Percy begged.

The desperation in Percy’s eyes pulled at Oliver’s heartstrings. He wished he could carry some of Percy’s emotional load. Oliver nodded once more. “I’ll go right after you, promise,” he said with a tight smile. He squeezed Percy’s hand, and then Percy was gone with a sharp _pop!_. Oliver took a deep breath. What a nightmare today was going to be.

_I promised,_ he reminded himself, and Apparated to the Burrow.

***

Percy stood at the end of the lane, looking at his childhood home apprehensively. He breathed in deeply and let it out slowly. The Burrow looked much smaller than he remembered it.

Oliver appeared next to him then and interlaced their fingers. “Ready?” he asked.

“As I’ll ever be,” Percy said nervously. That was to say, not at all.

They walked up the lane – shorter than Percy recalled, or maybe it was just nerves – and Oliver knocked purposefully on the door, which had a single piece of black cloth draped over the frame. Percy felt tears welling up in his eyes – again – and he blinked them back. He wasn’t going to cry. _At least not yet_ , he told himself. _Not before the funeral has started._

At that moment, the door swung open. Ginny stood in the doorway.

“What are _you_ doing here?” she spat for the second time that week.

Percy found himself at a loss for words. Fortunately, Oliver took over.

“He was – we were – invited,” Oliver said shortly. He didn’t have the patience for Ginny’s attitude. Percy already blamed himself; he didn’t need blame piled on him by anyone else. “Are you going to let us in, or will we have to stand on the porch all afternoon?”

Ginny looked taken aback, but she moved aside. Oliver pulled Percy, who had hesitated on the steps, through the door. Once inside, Percy shot Oliver a grateful look.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “I just...I can’t.”

Oliver squeezed Percy’s hand. “I know,” he replied. “I’ll do everything I can to make this easier for you.”

Percy attempted a half-smile. It looked pathetic.

“Is that Percy I hear?” came a voice from the kitchen. His mother. Percy’s ‘smile’ turned to a grimace. “Percy!” she exclaimed, hurrying down the hallway. She stopped short when she saw Oliver. She tried to mask the combination of surprise and annoyance in her eyes, but both Percy and Oliver saw it. “And Oliver! So...good...to see you, dear.”

_Wonderful,_ Oliver thought bitterly. _She’s already judging us._

“Mrs. Weasley,” Oliver said. He didn’t extend his hand. He didn’t smile. He could only be minimally cordial after what Percy had told him.

“I’m so glad you came, Percy,” Molly said. “Truly. No matter what was said – or wasn’t said – we’re family. You’re _always_ welcome here.” She looked apologetic. Oliver didn’t believe her, not for a second. If she could blame Percy for Fred’s death in the moment, she could lie about forgiving him. He kept his face neutral.

Percy didn’t respond. He didn’t know what to say. ‘Of course’? ‘It’s the least I could do’? Neither felt right. He settled for a short nod. He felt Oliver squeeze his hand again. It gave him a small measure of comfort.

“Let me make you some tea,” Molly offered. “Come into the kitchen with me. Your brothers are already here.”

Percy’s heart sunk. He was certain George didn’t want him here. He could imagine the reactions of the rest of his siblings as well. Anger, hatred, disgust – and he deserved every ounce of it. He drew in a sharp breath and steeled himself for the torrent of abuse he would surely receive.

Percy saw his entire family sitting around the kitchen table. Fred’s chair had been left purposely empty. When he and Oliver entered the kitchen, his siblings’ eyes bore through him. Percy wanted to turn around and go home, but his feet were rooted to the spot.

“Get out,” George snarled viciously.

“George...” Molly warned.

“No, Mum,” George snapped. “He’s not welcome here.”

Percy felt the flush rising in his cheeks and anger boiling in his chest. This time, he thought, he would defend himself.

“I already blame myself,” Percy retorted angrily. “I don’t need any of you to blame me, too.” He paused, taking in his siblings’ reactions. “I have nightmares. I can’t even save him in my dreams. I’m a failure even when I’m asleep.” His anger was slowly being tempered by melancholy. He deserved their anger and frustration, but he was going to fight for his place in his family.

George drew his wand. His eyes were flashing with rage. “If you don’t get out,” George threatened, “I’ll kill you.” Pause. A collective gasp rose from the table. “Don’t think I won’t. You killed Fred.” A loud sob escaped his lips. Arthur put his arm around George’s shoulders.

“Come on, Georgie,” Arthur said gently. “Let’s leave Percy be. You need a rest.”

“No!” George shouted. “I do _not_ need a fucking rest! He deserves to suffer the way I’m suffering!” A malicious grin spread across his face. “Or maybe,” he said slowly, “I should do Oliver in? Maybe _that_ would help you understand.”

Percy instinctively stepped in front of Oliver. “No,” he said. “Not Oliver. Do anything you want to me, but he’s done nothing wrong. He doesn’t deserve this.”

_Neither do you,_ Oliver thought sadly. _You’re beating yourself up for something you can’t change._ Oliver gently pushed Percy out of the way. “I can defend myself, love,” he whispered. “But I appreciate the effort.” He took Percy’s hand once more.

“Percy has tried to apologise to you ungrateful bastards dozens of times, and what does he get in return?” Oliver said angrily, picking up steam. “Fucking nothing. More anger. Hatred. Abuse for something he couldn’t control.” He glared at the pale faces staring back at him. “You’re all being unbelievably selfish. Percy is harder on himself than anyone else ever could be. Don’t you think he’s been beating himself up ever since it happened?” Now the only person still looking at him was George, who still had an angry look on his face. Oliver frowned at him. He knew George well. Nothing would change his mind; he had to come to the realisation he was wrong on his own.

“I can’t forgive him,” George said angrily. “I can’t be in the same room with him.” He pursed his lips. “Percy, I fucking loathe you. You’ve been awful to mum and dad, and now you’re responsible for Fred...Fred’s...” Even George couldn’t say it. “If I have to look at you for one more minute, I’m going to kill you.”

Percy felt sick to his stomach. This was much worse than he’d expected it to be. He had expected to be shouted at. He hadn’t expected his life to be threatened. He dropped Oliver’s hand. “Fine,” he said meekly. “I’ll go. You won’t have to worry about me ever again.” With a sharp _crack_ , Percy Disapparated. Oliver didn’t even have a chance to try to talk him out of it, much less say goodbye. He suddenly felt very empty. He glared accusingly at the Weasley family, all of whom were now avoiding his gaze.

“Look what you’ve done!” Oliver roared, furious. “Are you proud of yourselves? It took a _lot_ of convincing to even get him to come here. Now you’ve shamed him to the point that he’ll likely never come back.” Oliver was absolutely fuming. Percy was already falling apart. His siblings seemed intent on breaking him.

No-one answered, so Oliver ploughed ahead. “I will hold each of you personally responsible for whatever happens to Percy after today.” He made sure to lock eyes with each Weasley before continuing. “And I will retaliate appropriately.” Oliver set his mouth in a thin line. He would protect Percy if it killed him, Merlin be damned. He would kill for him. He didn’t care. “Have I made myself abundantly clear?”

The kitchen was as silent as a Potions lesson. Oliver tried again. “Have. I. Made. Myself. Abundantly. Clear?” he repeated, exaggerating the spaces between the words to increase the Weasleys’ seemingly poor comprehension skills.

Finally Charlie, who had been Oliver’s idol, spoke.

“Yes, Oliver, you’ve made yourself quite clear,” he said, his voice low. His tone was a mix of frustrated, angry, sad, and disappointed. “But...”

“There is no _but_ ,” Oliver growled. “You’ve pushed your brother so close to the breaking point; I don’t know if he’ll ever recover. I hope you can find it in your bitter, angry hearts to feel some shame for what you’ve done to him.” He shook his head. “I just can’t believe you would do this to your own brother. You deserve whatever you get.”

With that, Oliver Disapparated back to Percy’s London flat. He was extremely disappointed to find it empty.

_Where could he be?_ Oliver worried. The only other place he could think of was his own flat, so he Apparated there immediately.

No Percy. No sign that he had been there, either. Terror was beginning to mount in Oliver’s chest. Where _was_ Percy?

***

Percy appeared in a small alley paved with cobblestones. He had been there once, three years ago, on an errand for Mr. Crouch. It was the only place he ould think of where nobody would recognise or bother him. He looked at the street sign.

_Good_ , he thought. He felt exactly the opposite. There was a weight in the pit of his stomach. He felt uncomfortably short of breath. His skin felt simultaneously hot and clammy.

A dirty, ragged, bearded man pushed past him.

“Excuse you!” Percy said crossly.

“Bitte?” the man replied, confused.

He had forgot already. No English. He shook his head and waved the man away. This would either be the greatest decision of his life, or the worst.


	25. Chapter 25

Percy was hired by the German Ministry for Magic almost immediately. Fortunately for him, his exploits as Mr Crouch’s assistant hadn’t made it across the Channel. He worked, as before, as an assistant to a high-level minister. What made it challenging was Percy’s low-level German-language skills. He studied for two hours every night and had even hired a tutor, with whom he met three times a week. He still didn’t feel like he was improving fast enough.

Percy was miserable. He was lonely, he didn’t understand the majority of what went on around him, and, most of all, he missed Oliver. Every night before he went to sleep, he talked to his button as if he were having an actual conversation with Oliver. He told Oliver about his day, his struggles adapting, and just how lonely he was. He wanted so badly to summon Oliver; he wanted to see him, to talk to him, to _touch_ him. Had he made the right decision? _Should_ he have stayed? Sometimes Percy wasn’t sure.

***

Oliver had been asked to help re-form Quidditch teams after the war. So many players had died or received career-ending injuries; it was a daunting task.

He had refused. He couldn’t imagine a world without Percy in it, and if he was going to _find_ Percy, he couldn’t be focusing all of his energy on other things. He had to find Percy. He was so lonely. He hadn’t realised just how much Percy had improved his life until he’d disappeared. His bed was cold. His flat was empty. He didn’t know what to do with himself. So he threw himself into the search for Percy.

Oliver’s first task was to search the Ministry archives. Maybe there would be a long-lost Weasley relative, someone with whom Percy was close, that Percy might be staying with. Oliver spent three uninterrupted days going through boxes upon boxes of parchment. Oliver lamented the fact that he had never asked Percy more about his family. That would have made this task less Sisyphean.

On the fourth day, Oliver’s eyes were on fire. He had been skimming tonnes of rolls of parchment with very few breaks and little sleep. He’d found three possibilities: a great-aunt, a distant cousin, and a relative of Mrs. Weasley – a Prewett. His next task was to find their addresses. Oliver sighed. He would have to go through the new Minister for that.

Kingsley Shacklebolt had been appointed Minister not long after the final battle. It had been unanimous – it would be the most stable Minister, the best for rebuilding the government from the ground up. So far, just two weeks in, he had appointed new heads of most departments as well as hired about a dozen new Aurors. Oliver had heard that both Harry Potter and Ron Weasley had been hired as Aurors. He could understand Shacklebolt’s decision on Potter, but Weasley? Ron had always been below-standard. Oliver wouldn’t feel safe with Ron Weasley protecting him.

Oliver had heard that Professor McGonagall had been asked to head up the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, but that she had chosen to stay at Hogwarts. Oliver wasn’t surprised; he reckoned she would live out the rest of her days there. But so far, the outlook was good. Oliver had mostly high hopes. Rebuilding was obviously going to be very slow, and extremely tedious, but they had to do it right, or else they would end up in the same situation.

Pushing himself to a standing position, Oliver nearly toppled over. His legs were numb from sitting on them for so long. Again. He walked in circles, holding tightly to a shelf, until he was certain he could hold himself up.

He Apparated to the Minister’s office and waited for his secretary, a thin redhead who reminded Oliver of Percy. The young man had wavy hair and a smattering of freckles, but his nose was more rounded and he didn’t wear glasses.

“Can I help you?” the man said.

His voice was different, too, Oliver noticed. Where Percy’s was like a warm jumper on a chilly day, this man’s leaned towards an unpotted Mandrake. Oliver flinched.

“Is the Minister available?” Oliver asked.

The man scoffed. “Do you think you can just walk in and see the Minister?” he asked scornfully.

“As a matter of fact,” Oliver said sharply, “I do. I’m certain he will see me. We fought together at the Battle of Hogwarts.”

The man looked chastened, but didn’t move.

Oliver glared at him. “What are you waiting for?” he asked, irritated. “I can’t speak to him through the door.” _Idiot,_ he added mentally.

Oliver’s tone seemed to motivate Percy-lite to summon the Minister. He stood, turned, and knocked on Shacklebolt’s door. The door opened and Oliver saw Kingsley’s kind face.

“Oliver!” Kingsley said warmly. “Please, come in. I hope Shane hasn’t kept you waiting.”

Oliver shot Shane a sidelong glance and shook his head. “No, of course not,” he replied. “I need to speak to you, Minister. It’s a matter of some importance. May I come in?”

“Yes, of course,” Kingsley replied, gesturing to his open office. He stood aside to allow Oliver entry. Oliver walked past and waited for him to shut the door.

The office was smaller than he’d expected. There was a medium-sized mahogany desk in the left corner facing the window overlooking the street; a single overstuffed armchair beside a small end table overloaded with leatherbound books; and several bookshelves nearly overflowing with books. Kingsley was clearly a well-read man, Oliver thought. Or at least he liked to keep up that appearance.

“Please, take a seat,” Kingsley said, gesturing to the armchair. Oliver obliged, sinking into the extremely comfortable, squishy chair.

“What can I do for you?” the Minister asked, settling into his desk chair.

“Well,” Oliver said, suddenly very nervous. What if Kingsley refused? What would he do then? He decided not to think about that, and instead focus on him accepting Oliver’s request. “Well,” Oliver restarted, “I’m sure you’ve heard...being good friends with the Weasleys...about Percy...and me...” Oliver realised he was floundering. “That we’re...”

“Yes, Oliver, Arthur mentioned it,” Kingsley said kindly, saving Oliver from further verbal embarrassment.

_Thank Merlin,_ Oliver thought. It wasn’t that he was ashamed; far from it. He just wasn’t in the mood – or the mental state – to explain their relationship. He didn’t want to expend the energy or waste the time.

“Then,” Oliver continued, “Arthur must have told you...that...Percy has, erm, disappeared.” The weight in Oliver’s chest got heavier. He hadn’t ever said it out loud. Saying it made it real. Talking about it with other people meant that Percy was really gone. What if Oliver never found him? What if he was...dead? Oliver didn’t know what he would do if that was the case. Without Percy, Oliver would wither and die, like Devil’s Snare in the sun.

“He did mention that,” Kingsley said, a note of concern in his voice. “He didn’t say why.”

Oliver didn’t offer any explanation. Thinking about the afternoon still made him too angry. He still couldn’t believe that the Weasleys were so hateful.

“How can I help you?” Kingsley continued.

Oliver bit his lower lip. “Well,” he said for what felt like the dozenth time, “you can imagine that I’m terribly worried about Percy.” He paused, and Kingsley nodded. Oliver forged ahead. “Anyway, I’ve spent the last three days in the archives, looking for possible Weasley relatives, somewhere Percy could be hiding.” He paused, searching for a reaction on Kingsley’s face. “And I’ve found three.”

“So what can I do?”

“I need to know where they live.”

Kingsley frowned. He stroked the stubble on his chin. “Normally I would decline such a request,” he said slowly, “but I’m certain that Molly and Arthur also want their son back.” He paused. “If it were just about anyone else, I would be more reluctant to do this.” He looked Oliver in the eye. “But I want to make this clear: I’m only doing this because the Weasleys are close friends. I’m still rather reluctant to bend the rules, but Percy was – and would be – a terrific asset to the Ministry.”

Oliver felt his temper rising. Was that really all they thought Percy was good for? Percy was a human being. He wasn’t just a Ministry automaton. He had thoughts and feelings, too. He deserved to be thought of, and treated like, more than just a ‘terrific asset to the Ministry’.

_Hold your tongue_ , he told himself. _If you explode, he won’t help you. Smile and nod._ Oliver jerked his head upwards in what could barely be considered a nod.

If Kingsley noticed Oliver’s tense expression, he didn’t mention it. “Who are you looking for?” he asked.

Oliver named the three people he had found in the archives.

“Trinity Prewett is dead,” Kingsley said immediately. “In the First Wizarding War.”

Oliver frowned. His pool of possibilities was getting smaller.

“But Muriel Weasley...” Kingsley trailed off, rolling his eyes. “It’s unlikely Percy would be there. Muriel is a piece of work. She’s Arthur’s aunt, and he can barely stand her.”

Oliver shrugged. “It’s worth a visit.”

“If you wish.” Kingsley summoned a thick book, a roll of parchment, and a quill. Flipping to a page in the middle, Kingsley copied an address on the parchment.

“And Bertrand Weasley?” Oliver prompted, as Kingsley looked poised to close the book.

“Ah, yes,” Kingsley replied slowly. “I don’t imagine he’ll be of much help.”

Oliver cocked his head, confused.

“You see,” Kingsley began, “Bertrand got hit with an improperly-cast Stunning Spell many years ago and it left him permanently Stunned. He’s now a fixture in St. Mungo’s.”

Oliver sighed. This didn’t look good at all.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help,” Kingsley said. He sounded truly apologetic. “If I had the resources, I would offer them to you. However, as you’ve seen, the Ministry is severely understaffed, and it will take quite a long time to get it back to pre-war levels.” He shrugged his shoulders as if to say _But what can you do?_

Oliver nodded. “I appreciate your help,” he said, turning to go.

“Good luck,” Kingsley said as Oliver left the office.

Oliver narrowed his eyes at Kingsley’s assistant as he walked past. Who was that Percy lookalike to stop him from finding _his_ Percy?

As Oliver left the Ministry, he felt more depressed than when he had entered. He had come up to Kingsley’s office with three names and a fair amount of hope. He was leaving with one address and the slight chance that Percy might be at his great-aunt Muriel’s. Oliver sighed and frowned. Percy was really making this difficult.

_He could at least owl me,_ Oliver thought. _Tell me he’s okay._ He worried about Percy every waking moment. Was he okay? Was he getting enough to eat? Was he even alive? The last question frightened him the most. What is he found Percy – but it was his corpse? Oliver shuddered. He couldn’t imagine such a horrible scenario.

He Apparated to Muriel Weasley’s house from the Atrium at the Ministry. He stood in front of her house, biting his lip, pondering what to say, when the door flew open.

“You! Boy! What are you doing in my garden!” There was a hunched old woman standing in the doorway, leaning on a gnarled cane, wand raised.

Startled, Oliver couldn’t think of a response.

“Boy!” the woman shouted again. “I’m talking to you! What are you doing in my garden? If you don’t answer me straightaway, I’ll summon the Aurors!”

Her response was so ridiculous, Oliver nearly laughed. But he held back; that wouldn’t help him at all.

“My name is Oliver Wood, Mrs. Weasley,” Oliver called. He kept his tone as friendly as possible. “Your grand-nephew, Percy, has gone missing, and I was wondering if he was staying here.”

Her face didn’t change. Or if it did, Oliver couldn’t tell.

“Percy?” she said with a cackle. “Good riddance. That boy has caused his parents more heartache than he’s worth. Wherever he is, it’s not here. We’re all better off without him.” She watched Oliver intently. “Why are _you_ looking for him, anyway? Why do _you_ care?”

Oliver clenched his jaw tightly. Was she _trying_ to wind him up? Because if she was, it was working. He heard Percy’s voice in his head, trying to calm him. _She’s a bitter old bat,_ mind-Percy said soothingly. _Don’t let her get to you. I’m out there somewhere. You’ll find me. I have faith in you._

“I care, Mrs. Weasley,” Oliver began in a clipped tone, “because - “ Should he tell her? He decided against it. Why should he share his – _their_ – joy with such a bitter person? “Because he’s my friend,” Oliver finished. “Because I’m worried about him. He was very upset when he left, and I’m concerned he might have done something...irresponsible.”

Muriel looked Oliver up and down. She looked left and right, as though she was checking for neighbours, and then said, “Come a bit closer, boy. I don’t need the entire street to hear our conversation.”

Oliver took a few steps forward.

“That’s close enough!”

Oliver stopped. He was perhaps two metres away from where he had been, and still nearly five metres from the house. How this was better, Oliver didn’t know, but he didn’t want to get on her bad side in case she had any information.

“Boy,” Muriel said, staring him down, “I don’t know anything about Percy’s disappearance.” She paused. “But if I did, I wouldn’t tell _you_ ; Molly and Arthur deserve a break from that ungrateful, selfish brat.”

Oliver’s temper flared.

“You don’t know Percy at all,” he said angrily. “You have _no_ idea what you’re talking about. Percy is kind, caring, and selfless. No one understands him!”

Muriel looked at him curiously.

“What you’re telling me,” Oliver said, his voice getting louder, “is that you would rather he died than tell me anything. You are a despicable woman.” He glared at her. “Utterly despicable. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Muriel didn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed as Oliver upbraided her. She stared him directly in the eye, as if she was challenging him.

“If he’s injured, or worse, dead, and I find out you withheld information that could have saved him, you’d better hope that I don’t find you,” Oliver threatened.

“Threatening a feeble old woman,” Muriel said sharply. “You’re quite the big man.”

Oliver didn’t respond. He was focusing on his own problems. Now he was back at square one. He had no information on Percy. He had no idea where to look. He might as well go home. He shot Muriel Weasley another nasty look and Disapparated.


End file.
